Hazards Of Life
by DwarvenReject
Summary: Peach Jones is coming home to say her goodbyes and finally get "closure". But the bayou doesn't forget and it doesn't let go. Things are at work beyond her control but that doesn't mean she ain't gonna bite her lip and fight for it. The end just depends on what she will fight for.
1. After So Long

After So Long

Peach is such a weird name. Old too. From my great grandma who I still say is kicking it in the bayou, hiding from money grubbing relatives. It's a weird ass name, but it's mine. I sigh as I filter back into the conversation going on beside me, putting the slightly bruised peach that caused my introspection down. My friends Cathy and Asha are arguing over directions again instead of just asking the native herself. Then again I haven't been here for years. Not since the disastrous beginning of freshman year. I unstick my bare thighs from the heated leather, the tank top not doing much for my shoulders either. Gotta say I did not miss the heat.

Over the staticky radio, I hear another amber alert and the possibility of it being connected to the dozens of other missing persons makes me uneasy. I click to a more friendly station and listen as the Oldies fill the dusty air. The girls didn't take my warnings seriously when I told them how dusty and, at the same time, rotting the swamp is. Cathy wrinkles her nose while her girlfriend gags in the back seat. I smile and settle in, a bandanna smelling like sunshine and perfume over my nose as we pass some worse parts where a rotting animal must be. The day was hot, sleepy, and honestly, I couldn't care less about us being lost right now. But if I want to get this over with I should probably do something.

"Hey, Cath, let's pull over here and try to find where on the map we are."

She did, and as we all stretched our legs, the woman finally fixed up her frazzled nerves before shooting me a smirk.

"Wish I had those happy pills you're always on."

I snort at her not so subtle nudge and lean inside to snag the rattling bottle. Making sure Asha was turned away as she examined one of the many trees, I palmed off one of my anxiety meds to the grinning blonde.

"Lifesaver."

She gives me a one-armed hug before striding suavely to her girlfriend, the tiny Indian girl giggling at whatever she whispered in her ear. I don't know why I came on this trip. It was a last second senior road trip they convinced me would involve more people. But here we are, lost in the swamp and I'm still the third wheel.

But that's a filthy lie. I know why. I know what made me come. This place. They wanted a road trip across the country to as many haunted places as they could. I secretly think they have a fucked up kink and get off on the horror, but that's none of my business. I came because they mentioned Baker. How they went missing along with dozens of others. How the bad seed son was most likely to blame for their disappearance and how I had to bite my tongue before I bit their heads off.

Lucas Baker. A name I haven't heard in years. I heard about the disappearance yea, but I never got a chance to check out myself. I wanted to find closure I guess. That's what my therapist called it anyway. Boy wonder genius with a shit-hand given to him. He was one of my first close friends. Can't count my brother cause that would be weird. I think? I watched him in high school when I was a barely teenage freshman, and he was the genius freak pulled back a grade or two for misconduct.

When I moved away, I never thought I'd see or hear from him again and, despite the mean rumors, never like this. I looked up to the weirdo in a kind of sick way. He was obviously crooked in the head like me, and so I tried to befriend him. Didn't anticipate how crooked, but hey can't be too choosy with your friends. As long as he didn't use that wicked switchblade on me, I was happy. I think it worked too. Too well on my end, my childhood crush and the only reason I don't consider myself a romantic.

Or maybe it's just the pills suppressing emotions again? I can never really tell with those bastards. I know I've had crushes before, but those were daily fleetings and purely physical. Lucas and I seemed to connect on an unholy level, getting on like a house on fire. But even now I don't know how much of that was rose-colored glasses and how much was him playing with an attention starved little girl. He was there to tell me goodbye at least, in his impersonal way, shoving a jerry-rigged laptop into my arms. He flinched when I hugged him, and my heart tore. It still does.

Despite the fact Skype was installed he never once contacted me. I remember the sleepless nights I would stare at the icon and pray for his face to pop up in such an unfamiliar place. I tried to look for clues he might have left because that's his style but even my more tech savvy brother couldn't crack any hidden code. So I shored up my defenses, took my happy pills, and started my new life.

I became semi-popular. The kind of popular that knows or is known by about everyone in school and is generally liked by everyone that isn't indifferent. But not the person one would see out of school or really invite to parties. Expendable and forgettable. I was ok with that. A little hurt, but I got over it quickly, just wanting to graduate and be done with it. I dealt with the worried looks of my parents as I stayed inside for long weekends playing my video games and learning to code. The only connection other than the now busted up computer I have to one of the few people I would have genuinely called a friend.

Cathy and I got on fine, and I like Asha despite her being a new installment in our group of friends. We may not be best friends, but I would consider walking over coals for them if that says anything. I don't say that out loud of course. I learned quickly that things like that unsettled people sometimes. Yawning exaggeratedly, I pointed to the car.

"Guys let's get going before dark. It gets creepy around here."

They nodded and we quickly Chinese-fire-drilled, leaving me in the driver's seat. Cursing I buckled in and spent a minute readjusting the system from that of the absurdly tall and skinny woman to my more modest height.

"So, anyone up for 'I spy?'"

The conversation evolved from exasperated groans to, somehow, history lessons of early American killers. I mentally correct Cathy as she tried to scare/turn on her girlfriend from the backseat. Another thing people didn't like was interrupting and correcting things like dates.

We made it to the Baker Manor before the sun was at its zenith; the rusted gate chained shut. Almost immediately I became uneasy looking at the house. Is it because I knew them? Maybe, but that didn't change the pressure of, what seemed like a steadily dropping stomach, to leave. In fact, the closer we got, the more sickly I felt.

"This is wrong."

But they weren't there to listen to my whisper. Instead, they'd moved ahead to find another way into the expansive property of the colonial home. I wonder why such a preserved home wasn't sold immediately after the entire family dropped off the face of the earth. It doesn't make sense; rich white people eat that shit up. Would have raised the price of such a historical home if you went to the right people. Instead, it was left in a state of decay and rust if the guest house was anything to go by. Shrugging off the melancholy I hurried forward to the others.

It didn't last long; the peace that is. We made our way into the property with no way back but to climb the fence. This didn't deter the others who practically skipped to the door. Oooing and awwing at the dark interior, they moved forward before the door slammed shut behind me without pushing it. Frantically spinning, I try to shove it back open only to be met with resistance and groaning wood that sounded eerily like human moans. My arms and neck prickled uncomfortably as I scrambled out into the hallway. I've only been here once, but the state of disuse honestly makes me pause.

Should there be this much decay? With shaking hands, I touch what looked like a patch of water stains but what felt like mold. Immediately taking my jacket against my mouth, I gape. Black mold? I shouldn't be so surprised in such a humid area by how can it cover almost all the surfaces even sparsely.

"Cathy? Asha? Guys we need to go I don't feel so good!"

With no answer I turned slowly to the empty room, voice warbling out and forgetting the fear of inhaling the mold.

"Guys?"

No need to panic. They might just be playing a trick on the scaredy cat of the group.

'And if they're not?'

I ignore that niggling little voice and carry on, albeit with slow, careful steps. A loud 'crack' fills the air along with a scream. Scrambling forward I run best I can to the stairway where Cathy is leaning on a fearful Asha.

"What?!"

She pointed to the ground where apparently Cathy had tripped over a crow, now squished on the floor.

"Don't worry babe. Just a crow. Don't look-hey! What the fuck Peach?!"

I ignore her and, using the bandanna stuffed in my pocket and an uneasy stomach, I flip the bird over to see the, unfortunately, familiar sight.

"It's been dissected. Its organs are gone. I think a voodooist is staying here guys. We need to go now."

They don't understand my urgency, and I don't either. But it's ingrained. Every warning my grandmother's imparted on me, every spell and protection and omen they could give me that my parents tried to burn out with suburban living, it firing. Don't mess with the fucking voodoo. Something else is wrong too. Something. The two are bickering above me and don't notice me when I kneel in front of the bird. Bile rushes up as I realize what's was wrong with the picture.

"Guys. The blood is black."

It's like the world was waiting for that line, the air growing tenser with ever second.

"The door locked from the outside."

With growing horror, I realized what's going on. Why this felt so wrong. No voodoo practicing person I know would use humans, but maybe misinformed teens or a satanic cult may have adopted some practices. Either way, we're trapped and royally fucked if we don't find a way out. Maybe that's why this hasn't been sold. A cult was chasing off buyers until it was blacklisted so they could lure in stupid tourists. I refuse to be one of those tourists. Neither of the girls seems to figure it out, and I swallow my frustration for them. Fuck this entire idea. Marching back down to the infested kitchen, I heft up a chair and swing like a batter against the window. It shattered with one hit.

Cathy was still confused and loud, but Asha looked shaken. Scared. Good. I should never have allowed them this deep south. Not this isolated. Helping them through the window silently, Cathy finally understands the vibes surrounding us, I watch the shadows wearily. When I was assured nothing would pop out at me, I shimmied my way out the glass infested window pane, halfway to freedom when something grabbed my leg. My scream of panic turned to one of pain as the person - what else could wrap their hands around someone's ankles? - dragged me over the jagged edges left of the window. It cut deeply into my stomach before I was dropped back onto my ass. Whimpering and trying to stay as small as possible, I discreetly pick the glass shards from my palms and shredded abdomen.

"Well, I'll be damned."

At the distinctly Cajun accent, NOT a newbie cultist fuck, my head snapped up and reared back at what it saw. Mother fucking Lucas Baker, the fucker himself. Gaping like a fish, I barely notice his father, a grizzled old military man, sidle up to his side.

"Watch this one boy while I get the others."

He nods and doesn't look away from my fallen form. To be fair neither do I. Shock wears off quick enough to see the changes in the two. How Jack looks more zombie than man. Skin a waxy gray color and wisps of hair sticking up from the combover, greasy and filthy. His expression is like a mockery of a human; the skin of his face stretched almost uncomfortably over another. In that second I believed in demon possession and scream as loud as I can.

"RUN! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!"

The frantic calling from beyond the window cut off.

"GO!"

I was rewarded with a filthy boot to the stomach. Probably infecting my dozen or so wounds. Jack grumbles as I gag on the disgusting floor before he marches out of the house, leaving me wounded and winded in front of a man who laughs like a maniac. Sniffling, I peer up through my lashes. While Jack was the most obviously wrong one Lucas didn't look much better, to be honest. He was washed out and pale, dark circles even bigger than mine and all the childish fat in his cheeks gone. The sharp angles and hollows of his face cast demonic shadows across his visage, and my heart skips a beat for all the wrong reasons.

He got closer to the light from the now cleared window pane, narrowing his eyes against the brightness and I finally get a good look at him from under the hood. His hairline has receded some. Way more than most mid 20-year-olds would have. 'Heightened testosterone' I think before moving on. He seemed to have lost even more weight judging by the clothes that hang into his lanky frame. His scruff has grown in, making the hollows a little less scary and a bit more handsome. Not that he is, to be honest. But he has that southern hic look. All sharp facial features and cornflower blue eyes.

He suddenly crouches in front of me, a smirk slowly curving and distorting the face I was so intently studying. In the back of my mind, I detachedly think about how good he'd look with piercings.

"Well hello there."

He purrs around the hello and gets close enough that I can see the tiny popped vessels in his eyes and the maniac gloss of his pretty blues.

"It's just peachy seeing you again."

He giggles like a little girl at the pun while crowding me against the wall. I honestly would rather chew my hand off than allow him to touch my bare skin. But I'm given no choice when he strikes like a cobra slamming me against the wall and ignoring my keen of pain when my head smacks with a wet thunk. The man sits on my lap, trapping my legs and digging a finger into the deepest bloody gash traveling from my navel to my ribs. His contented purrs choke off into another sickly giggle.

"I, you uh, gained a little weight there."

I blush as he pinches the roll of fat before moving on to the rest of my body. My bucking was met with a sucker punch to the face.

"Fucking hold still. Jesus woman you'd think you didn't like it."

I whimper again but don't move. Something is seriously wrong with him. He's never acted this way to me. Not even drunk out of his mind has he ever hit me. Sure, pinched my butt but never assaulted. He hummed a tuneless song before continuing.

"Stopped running, huh? Can't say I miss your body. You were almost like a boy with how skinny you were."

I look away as he brushes against my shapely hips and bust. After years of obsessive exercise and dieting, I seemed to finally grow into the awkward shape my body was forcing itself into. If I look into the mirror, I could admit to seeing a more hourglass figure now, shapely thighs and butt my favorite features. Not with a little casualty as he reminds me by pinching and rubbing my soft stomach and thighs. He snorts when he gets to my shoulders, an ugly sound that sounded like it was caught by a hiccup.

"Still got fucking bull shoulders too, huh?"

I snapped at him before I could hold my tongue.

"Not like you turned out any better, Luc."

He smiled, and I felt colder for it. The door banged open, and he jumped off me like he knew what he was doing was wrong. But he winked in full sight of his father who flops the still bodies of my friends onto the ground. Scrambling on my hands and knees, I check their pulses and breathe in relief. Thank God. Lucas crouches in front of me again, and I watch him wearily. He just spreads his hand in the universal sign of peace before winking again. It burns something in me that wants to set him and this fucking house on fire.

The last thing I remember before seeing black is Lucas's wide glassy eyes and my harsh "sonova bitch!" before Jack's axe handle makes friends with the back of my head. And I sure as fuck didn't see nothing after that. I woke up in a chair, rough rope cutting into my skin, Asha's whimpers loud in my ear like my heartbeat, and the smell of something rotten and sour wafting up my nose. Only one thing missing. My sight. Immediately, I begin to freak out. Of course.

"What? Oh fuck, I can't see! Why the fuck can't I see?!"

Asha began to bawl, and Cathy's soft words attempted to soothe her girlfriend while I felt one of their hands entwine with mine. We're close then, that's a relief. A Cajun accent yelled across what might be a dining room if the scrapes of cutlery say anything.

"Shut up that crying, girl. She ain't dead she'll probably get it back in a day or so."

So they are planning on us being alive that long. A little better than immediate death. Probably. Now that my drowsiness is dropping I can feel the incredible pounding in my skull and feel the sticky sensation of dried blood covering the entire back of my neck and halfway down my back. How hard did that mother fucker hit me?! Biting back a sob I remember being at the Baker's home. It was only a few times, and we mostly spent time in his warehouse making things and watching gory horror movies with junk food. Doesn't help that half the time they were gone to the city for one reason or another leaving us teens on our lonesome. I think they didn't approve of him having such a young friend. Just thinking about the past hurts and I do the thing I haven't done in years. The same thing when he scared me too badly watching Saw, and he described to me in detail how much better he could make the games or when I accidentally stepped on a rusty nail in his workshop the entire length going through and breaking off in my foot. I sobbed his name.

"L-Lu-cas?"

Biting a yelp when a breathless giggle sounded by my ear, I teeter forward in my chair, hand frantically grasping the other.

"I'm already bored. They don't want to be a family, not really. And they're too boring to make them love us. But maybe this one."

I feel the sticky stubs of a child's fingers brush away the curl in my face.

"She likes you, Lucas."

The maniac voice of the child suddenly pitched higher in excitement before clapping needlessly.

"Maybe she can be my big sister and you guys can get married! And start your own family."

The tense air broke before snapping even tighter. The ecstatic screams of a woman didn't leave me guessing who she was. Marguerite Baker. Nicest lady in church and always snuck me some candy when she saw my pouting face. She even gave me freshly baked turnovers when she heard Lucas, and I hit it off, a grateful smile shining brightly. I remember her smelling like flowers and caramelized sugar.

"Oh, Jack! Our baby's getting married, Jack!"

Her chair was thrown back and hers and then another, now recognizable, gruffly amused voice that couldn't belong to anyone but Jack Baker; the handyman of the bayou and all around good fellow. My friends still sobbed as a creaking footstep came closer and closer until it stopped in front of me. He yanked my head back with my blood matted hair and snarled in my ear.

"You really shouldn't have come back."

Oh, baby don't I know it.


	2. Cages

Cages

Somewhere between Lucas cutting our ropes and being dragged away, I passed out again from a concussion most likely or a contusion. When I woke up, I was tossed over a boney shoulder, trying not to toss up cookies over my captors back. Before I could psych myself up to doing just that to the fucker, I was out again. Surprised I haven't gone comatose at this point.

When I woke up and thankfully stayed up, I was naked on some cement floors and freezing so badly my nipples were in pain. Whimpering like a kicked dog I tried to get up on shaky arms, still blacked out eyes frantically looking around in hopes of seeing the light, color, anything! The hushed sobs in a corner told me I wasn't alone and I tensed up.

"Peach?"

I almost, almost laugh hysterically when they spoke, nerves shot to hell and back. My arms collapse under my own weight, but thankfully I wasn't far from the ground. Feeling for the bloody goose egg at the back of my head I was surprised to feel it clean with a few sloppy stitches closing the aching wound.

The surrounding hair was matted but clean of debris and from the aching of my scalp whoever did this probably tried brushing my hair but gave up halfway. God speed to them. An itch crawled over my neck, and I felt it up to find a freaking collar. For a dog. I feel the tag in the front and wonder hysterically if his name and number were printed on it along with a, "please return me home."

"Weeell now that you ladies are all up, I got a little game for you."

Lucas. His voice pitched lower and higher with manic glee. A tear squeezed out the corner of my eye as I wondered if the family was always like this. Are they the reason those people went missing? Were they always this fucking sick and we just never bothered to look deeper? Was I partially to blame for seeing his obvious psychotic tendencies as quirks and not tried to get him help?

"Don't think too hard baby, you'll get frowny lines!"

His childish voice giggles before becoming deeper. Serious.

"The name of the game, ladies, is that at least one of you have to die in there or that little gate over yonder doesn't open. There's a pot over there for any pooootty breaks,"

I hear a scraping sound before a clang.

"...and you'll be watered every now and then. If I remember that is. You see, I want you to break, just not that fast. What's the fun in that?"

I sneer and sit up a bit to hear him better.

"The lights won't turn off, not a problem to you huh, sweetheart?"

He snickers and continues.

"And you won't get clothes. No matter how pretty you beg or how much of a show you dykes in the corner give me."

"Mother fucker-"

A static sound came before the obscenely tight collar around my neck gave a controlled shock. At least I think it was controlled. This must be what getting tazed feels like, and after the minutes that could have very well been seconds, I was on the ground again, drooling a bit and in a puddle of piss that smelled like fear. He tsked over the speaker.

"Now, now Peach. Don't go cursing your fucking stupidity on me. I'm actually rooting for you to live through this."

I try to react to my given name being used by this freak, "bastard" on the tip of my tongue. But I know him. He won't let anything slip even after such a painful example. It's why his rat experiment died in science class. He grunted, and I heard another grinding sound.

"Go clean yourself up, Peach. Don't need you girls getting sick from ammonia now do I."

Blearily I remember his borderline obsession with cleanliness and try to crawl in the direction of the sound before my twitching muscles gave out. Already the piss is cold, and I wrinkle my nose as I have no choice but to lie in my own fucking filth. I'll get him back for that I swear to gawd. Soft hands help me sit up, a gentle Indian accent crooning in my ear as Asha rocked me. I didn't really care about the words, just the familiar sounds washing over me in this scary situation.

To be honest, I was never one for scary things and probably would have pissed myself just fine already if I could fully process this situation without the added help. I didn't even really notice the breast on my cheek as she held me close while Cathy cleaned up the mess. I wanted to sleep then and there, but with this head injury, I settled for the next best thing. I fucking cried.

I cried so hard and long that snot leaked from my nose and my headache grew 10x worse. I screamed at Lucas, at his family, at the betrayal I felt sinking into my bones. Sweat broke out of my face and under my pits, not even bothering to cover my honestly freezing boobs anymore as I raged at him. His only response, after what must have been hours of verbal abuse to him and the horse he rode in on, was a chuckle and chilling words.

"Baby, we're gonna have some fun."

It's only been hours. Hours of listening to Cathy pace and wordlessly scream after my honestly huge freakout. Hours of listening to Asha's calming breaths turn into hyperventilation as we held each other.

"Cathy stop. Please."

"Why?! The bastard has to break at some point! If we get him to talk again, maybe we can try to establish a relationship. Get on his good side."

I blink and try squinting in what I think is her general direction before giving up with a sigh. Biting my response to that (honestly, why does she think he doesn't have cameras on us right now? He always has cameras on every inch of this property!) I try to sound empathetic and soft. Kind of hard when I seemed to have cried out all my emotional energy for the next month.

"He doesn't give up Cathy. Then he wouldn't be Lucas."

They seemed to finally catch onto something bigger going on, and I relax as the annoying shuffle of feet against cement ceased.

"How do you know so much?"

Suspicion. I flinch back from Asha and try to rationalize it. She doesn't know me that well, and we're in a high-stress situation. If I wasn't so doped up right now, I might be panicking a little more too.

"I used to live here remember? I went to school with the Bakers, and I knew the parents from church."

"What about that creepy grandma?"

My veins froze, and my jaw dropped.

"Grandma Baker died a few months before I left. I don't know who you guys saw up there, but that wasn't her."

Blood drains from my face quicker than I thought possible. Who else is up there? Who was that little girl? I won't be getting answers from them, so I keep my mouth shut and hopefully keep my growing stress down. Doesn't help that I can't read their body queues. I don't know if I'm unloading too much or too little information on them. I do not need these two more freaked out. It'll become a chain reaction before exhausting us completely and our meager water supply. I can already feel dehydration nip at my heels and turn my attention back to the present.

"I used to be friends with Luc. He was my only friend really. The guy that made my Frankenstein computer."

I can't help but smile fondly at the memory not tainted by fear of more unknowns. I left it in the trunk of the car along with all my clothes and my tablet. Not to mention the phone Lucas has probably already taken apart 5 different ways. No. I force myself to think about him as he is now. He's probably glued to the monitors watching with unblinking eyes and a sweaty face. The image sticks and I forced myself out of soft memories.

"He-"

Caged.

I choke back a sob, done crying for this century.

"I don't know what's wrong with them. They were never like this before. Not even Lucas. Sure he was a sadistic fuck, but he never kidnaped people!"

I don't know what I'm vehemently defending. The man himself or the memories I still hold so dearly to. Are they one in the same and I never saw it? Or are they completely different? Or perhaps, he shares some qualities and something stronger here is at work. Tainting them. Twisting them. Lord, I hope so. I might feel less guilty and sick if I have to kill one. Purification. Church bells seemed to ring in my ears, and I almost scowled at one of the few good Christian memories that played out in my mind. The tiny cross branded on my hip still burns, hollow screams of little 14-year old me begging Uncle Benjamin to stop. He'd fucking love this, his little angel finally purifying the world, that sick fuck.


	3. 7 Days

7 Days

Day 1 was...hectic. Day 2 was just downright annoying, and by now I had learned to block out his tired tirade of me gaining weight before the pervert would pause and either compliment my ass or tits before badgering one of the others.

"Finally losing some weight there sweetie. Though not sure if that's an improvement if you got it in the right places, and let me teeeell you it's in the right places."

I don't curse or yell or even react. The singes on my neck tell me what would happen if I back sassed him again. The first day gave me leeway. He didn't even allow that for Asha and Cathy, putting them down quicker than you could say "well shit." Took day 3 for them to break and commence an awkward make-out session worthy of a porno in hopes of getting food or heating or something. That was gross to listen to.

I had finally succumbed to sleep by then and didn't wake up again until day 5. It was somber I guess. All half-assed escape attempts were thwarted by our only sense of fashion in this cold place, and we couldn't hate it more. But we learned quickly from that too. We couldn't chew or tear them off fast enough, his electric shocks never lasted but a few seconds, but he upped the amp every now and then. The little box was impossible to break open with bare hands, and the wires were too tight around our necks. The worst part was when Asha was able to dig deep enough to figure out that tiny barbs were in our skin and started to scratch at the wires. He allowed her to get far before he shocked her with the highest dosage yet. The smell is still not gone.

We asked by then (we begged with varying degrees of patheticness to the ceiling where his mics and cameras were) what the purpose of the shocks was. He already has us in a secure room with no way out. The man didn't let us wait on that one, actually preening and hawing at the ingenious of the plan. He's trying to train us to be part of the family before Eveline could get her sticky little fingers on us and get bored at the wrong reactions. Makes us last longer.

"You see the surviving person gets the honor of being part of the family. And we don't want a shitty family member now do we."

His excited game-show-host-voice changed then. It became deeper. More sadistic than mad. It was terrifying.

Day 6 was boring. He hadn't tried to prod at us all day, and the girls were still pissy from their fight the day before, so the air was stale between us. I didn't even try anymore after the cold shoulder, and I can't exactly try to get up and hug them when I fall flat on my ass everytime I stand up. Vertigo and blindness is a wretched combination and the only thing making me swallow my bile down is the fact that Lucas might not send us cleaning supplies again. The only thing to do was sleep until what I assume was morning reached us.

On day 7 we broke. I woke up with my arms restrained above me and my legs loosely tied. Asha prayed quietly above me, and my heart froze before catching on a fury of fire. Cathy cleared her throat of what I hope to gawd is regret before speaking.

"I'm so sorry Peach. I really am. But I can't let Asha die here."

I wanted to understand. I wanted the hot fires of betrayal, cooled slightly now, to not burn my bones and create a wildfire in my chest. I wanted to be stoic and accepting, but instead, I cried ugly sobs while screaming obscenities in Asha's face. I don't want to die here either.

"Asha, hold her steady I need to make this quick. Better that way than whatever sick way that asshole would have come up with."

She didn't even hesitate in sitting more securely on my arms and holding my head back and my throat exposed to the blade. Cathy lined up before retracting, probably to get a momentum swing. Must be an axe. The only thing I could hear was my heart beating wildly and my own pants over the quiet hum of the out of reach vent. And also...static?

It was so sudden that even I screamed Ashas drool dripping on my face as she bit her tongue in a seizure. The electric shock seemed so much stronger if the seizes I can feel are anything. Cathy dropped the axe. Unfortunately, it was forwarded. The sharp blade sliced into my arm, fat, and muscle nothing but butter to the overly sharpened blade. Cursing and screaming at them, I calm a little to notice the shock is still going. With growing horror at the burning smell of electrical heat and singed hair, I know why. He's going to kill them.

Sobbing I wiggle away holding the flaps of my arm together and trying not to throw up at the sensation. The pain is going numb now as I smack into a wall and desperately claw up it looking for one of those hidden doors he shoves water, though. Giving up with a sob I press up against it screaming at Lucas to open one of those hidden compartments. To let me out of here. To spare them and me.

None of that happened of course, but in the long minutes it took for them to finally die, the overpowering scent of fried wires and burnt flesh making me gag, gave me some introspective of my own life. I deserve this. I asked for more. More excitement and a new life. I expected it after high school ended. I should have been happy with what I was given. I deserve this. I deserve this and more. I barely registered his snickers over the speaker.

"That's the game folks! Don't need no backstabbing harpies in the family now do we?"

A recorded 'boo' sounded over the sound system. I filter out the rest of his spiel, as the white noise drove my frantic thoughts. I deserve this. The first smack of skull meeting concrete echoes in the suddenly empty room, shocked silence and white noise. The second one is blocked somewhat by the sounds of tripping and a squeaking wheel. I'm to my fifth smack, blood dripping from my temple, as I hear the sound of the gate opening with a metallic clang and the slap of rubber soles on cement.

I don't expect gentle, and I don't get it. With a snarl, he grabs my head and slams it against the wall keeping it there. The sick bastard murmurs in my ear while stroking the greasy rat's nest that is my hair. He closes my eyelids despite the fact I don't need that to see darkness, and finally, I hear more than white noise. This Lucas sounds familiar. Keening from deep in my throat I shift my head to feel the scruff on his cheek. Definitely outgrew that shit patchy work he rocked in high school. His voice is his natural timber as he croons sweet nothings against my ear.

"Come on, Peaches. I'm not done with you yet baby I need you for this. Not getting rid of you. Never getting rid of you."

His soft pets become frantic as he brushes over my skin, hesitating a little before stroking my still painfully hard nipples. I swear every time my body got used to the cold in here he'd turn it down. Not much use now. Unless he's keeping me in here. The panic of the thought brought up my heart beat and constricted my lungs before he shoved my face into his shoulder.

Through my own unwashed musk and blood, I smell him. Clean earthy and dark. Beyond that, I smell fried skin, and before I could stop myself, I push away from his hand so I could vomit away from my body. I hope some got on him. He gave me a listless chuckle before picking my shivering body up by the waist like I weigh nothing.

"Looks like I gotta wait for the grand finale."

As he carefully, almost hesitantly, wrapped my limbs around his torso he tucked my head under his chin and crooned something terrible and country, I wondered how I'd ever get out of here. Away from this madman that is suddenly making my personal world smaller and smaller. As he began to rock, I started to cry again. For myself. For my friends who just didn't love me enough to wait and try again. For this man who held me like a dying wish. But mostly for myself. Because I deserved this.


	4. Unpredictable

Unpredictable

Lucas must have slipped me something because when I come to my ass cheek is sore and my arm is stitched up and hot to the touch. It's still numb from whatever that weird medical smell emanating from the wound is and it's stitched just as sloppy as the back of my head.

To my disappointment, I'm still as naked as a newborn without even a stitch around my neck. Groaning I try to stretch out to pop my shoulders, but I could barely wiggle in the cocoon of blankets. Cursing Gawd and his mother I try to flip around like a fish before I drop from the springy bed onto the cold floor.

I guess that was too much because whoever (Lucas. Bet my left tit. I'd know that fuck anywhere by now) was in the room burst into hideous giggles and knee slapping.

"Oooo man I forgot how fun you 'er."

Scowling at what I think is the ceiling I give another experimental wiggle.

"Lemme."

With some tugging and cursing my captor ironically freed me while also ignoring my flinches. At least I think he did. He was always more expressive in his face than his words, and with a sinking stomach, I realized what a disadvantage I have to him. It's...chilling. Proving my fear, he takes a sharp left turn and grabs my wounded arm.

"Fuck! Now, look what you did, tore mah stitches."

He grumbles and drops the limp appendage to shamble somewhere, opening and slamming drawers, and comes back with a metal box that may be medical. He doesn't give me any warning as he stabs into the torn flesh. I bite my yelp back at the disturbing sensation of the plastic thread being dragged through my body. At least it's still numb. He ties it off after a few painfully awkward minutes and goes to away, probably to put away the supplies.

"Gauze."

"What?!"

I flinch at the sharp word like it was a smack.

"Gauze. It'll help my stitches stay in place."

Silence. Then a heavy pat on the head with a happy croon.

"Well ain't you a smarty pants."

He makes no other comment, but he does wrap the wound while following my instructions. It's tight but I feel that this might not be the best moment to mention that. He smacks a wet kiss on my forehead, more sound than contact, before striding to put away the supplies. He's so freaking unpredictable!

"So wifey, whatcha wanna do?"

I gape and mouth 'wifey' before kicking out in a way that tore some scabs on my stomach.

"The fuck do you mean 'wifey'?!"

"Did you miss the whole conversation at supper baby or have you just gone deaf as well as blind? Eveline," He spits the name out like it tastes bad, "Wants a new big sister. And if she has her way there'll be little Lucas's and Peach's running around here by the end of the year."

Oh god. Oh god. Nononononono!

My breath became sparse and my mumblings more frantic. I may have...well to put it delicately, I wanted to fuck the brains out of just about anyone that gave me positive reinforcement when I was younger. And some of those feelings may or may not have survived into my more stable older years. But there's no way in hell I'm touching him with a ten-foot clown pole after what he did. When I told him just that he laughs. Normally, without the tinge of madness. Unpredictable.

"That's ok, sweetheart. Not really looking forward to that either. The baby part, not the making. But despite what you think I don't exactly want my girls hissing and fighting me when I'm fuckin em. So I guess we just wait."

My face twists up into a snarl.

"For what?"

There's a moment of silence before he grunts. Probably forgot I couldn't see his shrugs.

"For you to fall for me aaaall over again."

"Fuck you and the horse you rode in on Lucas Baker."

"Now, honey, I may be a kinky asshole, but I'm not sure bestiality is my thing. Different strokes for different folks I guess."

He laughed, but I just sat there glaring at empty space and clenched my jaw. He sighed before grabbing my cheeks and forcing me to look up.

"Listen up, girly. Neither of us is exactly keen on this, but I'm rolling with the cards here. In the end, you either die here, or you stick with me."

This! This is the Lucas I want to talk to. The lucid asshole.

"But you ain't going back home. You ain't leaving this place alive and if you do you're mine. That's your options."

"I have to stay with you?"

Sounded more like a whimper than a question, eyes still frantically looking around for where he is.

"Till death do us part, sweetheart."

"Did those options include torturing and killing my friends?"

My voice is tight and angry. My lungs burn from keeping in my screams of accusation. He just snorts in my face.

"No. That was just fun."

"Mother fucker!"

I shove his warm body back, fists colliding with his chest. And he allowed it until I sucker punched his crotch after gauging its location. With a high pitched shriek, he picks me up under my pits, shakes my like how I'm convinced he shakes babies and literally throws me into the wall to slide onto the mattress.

The door slammed, and the frame rattled ominously. Like any more abuse and the whole wall will break. Curling into a ball, I lie there unable to find it in myself to cry. The cool room raises goose bump all along my arms and back, but I can't be bothered to try and find the covers he tossed off somewhere. I think I'm in shock. Or still in shock. I swear I could still smell the burning flesh. Still feel that itchy collar. Still, hear the white noise.

Now that I'm not being crowded by the air of crazy I can think, actually think, about the effed up situation I found myself in. The girls...they wanted to kill me. They had no hesitation. No long-winded apologies. Just a 'me or them mentality.' Even I can't forgive that grudge, but my fury is cooled again.

The girls had to do it and found no other alternatives. It hurts like a bitch that they didn't even talk as a group about what to do and who would make the sacrifice. They just tied me up like an animal and tried to freaking decapitate me! But that doesn't change the fact that they're dead and I'm not. Not yet anyway. I have to find a way out. Then maybe I'll cry again later.

Rubbing away the sleep from my eyes I stand up on shaky legs. I feel like a newborn giraffe. I didn't have a plan or even a thought process. Just that I need to get the fuck out right now. I may or may not have tripped, and I probably smacked into a wall so hard I was convinced I broke my nose, but that is neither here nor there. What matters is that I'm out of that stifling room and can breathe. It didn't knock sense into me. If anything the fresher air mingling with the smell of electricity and rotting hay made me more delirious.

All animals have a fight, flight, or freeze instincts and currently, the only response being wildly fueled by panic and adrenaline is flight. I have to move. To run. And, well, I don't exactly have to go into detail why the blind girl wandering around a plantation with crazy hillbillies isn't a good idea now, do I?

The exit I found was further away than I anticipated as I moved agonizingly slowly from his workshop into his pad. I could tell from the lived in smell of it. At least I hope it's his apartment. Feeling for the door, I winded up and slammed against it. Did not expect for it to fly open and to my horror, I kept moving until I was clotheslined in the gut by a chipped railing.

Wheezing I tried to move back only to feel empty air under my left foot, the rest of my body tumbling down the steep stairs which I must'ave climbed a hundred times and yet still didn't remember. Fuck. I landed in smelly mud and wet grass and only then did I wonder if this was a bad idea. But hell I made it this far. Crawling back up I limped forward slowly until I smack into a gate and move along its side until I found the door.

Unlatching the rusted metal as quietly as possible I take in my first step to freedom. Maybe that'll be easy? Maybe-*shlunck*. I freeze as I try to figure out what that sound was. *shlunck* Again. It was almost like a limping sound but...wetter? Then a growl. I jumped and began turning wildly. What is that?

I was not prepared for the screaming pain in my shoulder and my back. I choked on my spit and emitted such a high pitched squeal I think only dogs could rightfully hear it. Dropping to my hands and knees, I try to crawl from the shuffling and snarling thing at my back. No animal I know makes a sound like that. What the hell?

Bumping head first into what must have been a tree I curl up into its base and hope maybe if I get small enough it'll go away. But no. The shuffle gets louder, the growling that sounds more and more human now that I listen to it becomes more intense. Oh, frack this is how I die. Just don't scream. Scream and they hear you and those crazy bastards drag you off to be a baby machine. A step later I changed my mind and chose to try and live another day.

Before I could scream for Lucas, the crack of buckshot and an unearthly gurgling roar sounded off, the smell of gunpowder and whatever that almost rotting thing was faded in the open air.

"Get! Leave you ugly bastard!"

Lucas. The monster grumbled before it began to shamble away its shuffling footsteps and goopy noises fade away as Lucas's irritated grumble got closer. My naked ass curled up further into the tree at my back when a slamming door opened.

"Fucking hell what was that!"

"Shut the fuck up, Zoe. Just one of those monsters getting too close again."

Zoe Baker. A queen bitch at school and holder of all my respect. Well, some. She lost a lot when Luc told me she used to send friends to him to try and seduce/humiliate him. The cat fight that broke out...she would have taken my skinny ass around a few times if someone didn't intervene but she gave me a handshake that day. Told me good luck 'with that no good fucker brotha o' mine.'

With his own inhuman growl, Lucas picks me up and tosses me over his painfully thin shoulder. Nearly screaming at the pain of the stretching wounds I barely feel the warning crack against my thigh.

"Shudup. I'm too tired to be listening to ya squeal."

He marches us up the stairs, full moon in view for the whole house before kicking the door shut with a bang. Gulping I decide to go limp. Better to try and find a smidgen of good graces left before he thinks I'm too much trouble and finishes the job that thing started. He makes it through the whole workshop within a minute marching my jiggly ass back to what must be a temporary room. He doesn't toss me onto the bed surprisingly.

Shrugging me off he places me facedown on the now undoubtedly blood-soaked mattress. Mumbling something about it being too deep, he gathers supplies.

"Bite."

Without hesitation I take a clean smelling rag into my mouth as he began to line up my probably shredded back, sticking the pieces back together. I smell the bitter bite of glue.

"Try not to scream."

He stapled the wound closed, and I bit down harder to try and keep my sobs in. When he was done he forced me to sit up so he could staple my shoulder. He seems to have noticed my jerky breathing and how hard I try to keep quiet. A harsh slap beat it out of me, a tear slipping down my nose.

"You didn't even hear the rules before going off. Wanna know what they are?"

Sickly sweet voice, all genuineness and caring gone. I nod anyway.

"Think of it as a game of Simon says. You do what I say, exactly as I say it, or you're dead. Comprende?"

I nod mutely. I know he's right. With my sight gone and possibly without return I'm as helpless as a newborn baby in this hellscape. I spit out the rag when he gets up, and I can hear a door squeaking open and water running. Figures he wouldn't tell me bout the bathroom.

"What was that thing?"

"What you're going to be if you don't play by the rules. They're family members Eveline got bored of or died before they could accept her gift. Trust me. Those ugly fuckers aren't what you want to be."

Goose flesh prickled painfully all the way down my back, and I begin to shake again. What's going on here? Those monsters...thank god I couldn't see them. Their shambling and grunted growling was enough nightmare fuel thank you very much, and the wound on my back is a testament to that. The water shuts off before I heard the almost stomping sound of his shoes against the wood flooring.

He stopped right in front of me, and as the fabric of his jeans brushes against my arm, I flinch in anticipation of pain. He only crouches and grabs my face with a wet hand. We stay like that in heavy silence until I began to shake with the strain of staying upright. He got closer in my space until we shared the air between us. I could feel his erratic panting with every damp breath across my nose. He smells like fluoride and stale powdered doughnuts.

"Now give your hubby a kiss."

With trembling lips, I pucker against what I thought were his lips, the man himself doing all the angling until our mouths slant together our noses an uncomfortable barrier. We didn't move. Just stayed until he backed away but I swear his breathing was faster and my heart beat a traitorous tattoo against my chest.


	5. Supper Time

Supper Time

Lucas dragged me into the shower after that, weak water pressure doing its job well enough to rinse the mud and blood off. I try not to think about the infections I'm probably suffering from and soap up my hair one handed with what smelled like a bar of Irish Spring.

Why couldn't that thing have hit me on my right side? Then I would have a fully functional arm instead of two half functioning ones. The stitches strain and my arm quivers from the pain of sliced muscles working. I need to get my hands on more of whatever wonder drug Lucas has got. And some food.

Already just exerting the energy it took for my daring escape attempt and now bathing is making me dizzy, vertigo doubling up. Moaning, I decide I've washed enough only to stumble out of the tiny shower and collapse onto the ground, legs unable to hold me up after starvation and an adrenaline crash. Frick frack. Life as an invalid starts now I guess.

"Lucas!"

The door slams open.

"Dammit, girl."

He growls and picks me up again. Instead of putting me on unsteady feet he strides into the small room and drops me onto the bed, wet and shivering. Something soft and thankfully clean smacks into my face a second later.

"Put these on. As much as ah like your naked ass running around here ah don't feel like getting either of our arms cut off tonight for ruining family dinner."

Gulping at the threat of mutilation, I struggle to get - what feels like - giant sweatpants and a mesh jersey on without punching myself in the face. He's exaggerating of course. Like telling a child you'll give them to the butcher if they continue to misbehave.

But I don't know how far they'll go in punishment, and I get the feeling it won't be pleasant. Lucas paces around the room before stopping and dropping something besides me, lightly kicking my leg.

"Eat. It ain't mama's cooking but ah don't need you passin' out on me."

Oh, fuck yes. With trembling hands, I grapple for the pile of junk food he dropped beside me. My heart sinks at the lack of substantial food, but I start shoveling it in any way. I only end up poking myself in the eye twice and once up the nose before I figure out I have to slow down; swallowing the last powdered mini doughnut and Dorito mix, I notice my burning throat.

"Water?"

A half empty water bottle smacks me in the now covered chest, and as I fumble for it, I listen to Lucas grumble and pick up the trash around me. I can't find it in myself to give a damn and swig the life-giving water in a couple of gulps. Now that I feel much better and not in a perpetual state of terror I can start thinking a little beyond my immediate needs.

Like my withdrawal from my medications. Anxiety, depression, insomnia, migraines. All of it is going to hit me sooner or later after this emotional crash. The stress may have blocked a lot of things, survival my most important thought. But now? Fuck.

"Lucas, do you guys have our stuff?"

They would right? It'd be stupid to just leave our car and belongings in the open. Right? He snorted an ugly sound.

"Unless you feel like scrounging around the furnaces you ain't gettin' your clothes back, sweetheart."

My heart squeezed a bit. My yearbook. My favorite lipstick. The last picture I took with the acting club, the last photographed memory I had of Cathy. Hell, even my favorite bra. All gone. Biting my tongue to keep in what feels like a curse but is probably a sob, I nod.

"What about my medicine?"

"If you had any pills in there Zoe's taken them, that fucking drug addict."

Shit. Shit shit shit.

"Lucas, I need those pills. Please."

I cross my fingers, hoping that being friendly and simpering will get him to even consider it despite the burning anger I have. I want to punch him. I want to hurt him. I want to lock him up so that he can feel the terror of not knowing if you'll survive to the next day. I want to snap a collar on him and burn him to his windpipe. But I don't say that.

"Why?"

I struggle to breathe through my nose and calm my need to scream; everything is so intense now after a week of being off, emotions running high and low at nearly random. I'll adjust. I always do. But after more than a year straight of religiously taking them the crash might be pretty extreme. That doesn't mean I won't try to get them back.

"Never mind. I'll try and get them myself."

He giggles, and I know then that I've lost whatever sanity he showed me.

"Yeeeaaa. Good luck with that one, wifey."

"Can I at least get some of that stuff that numbs the cuts?"

He grunted, and I tried my damnedest not to scream when he tugged the damp jersey up and slapped a soaked rag onto the wounds on my back. He roughly rubbed in whatever the foul smelling liquid is, allowing it to soak in. The numbing was almost immediate leaving some tingling as it seeped further into the raw wounds. I moaned in what sounds like ecstasy, finally feeling pain-free after hours of slowly burning nerve endings.

"There, now get up. We gotta go 'fore daddy tries fucking up my place again."

He grabs my elbow and drags me behind. He didn't even give me my shoes, the fucker.

"Remember: do what I say, when I say, or you die. And don't curse at the dinner table. Eveline doesn't like it. Understand?"

I was tempted to try and kick him, but I could barely keep up as it is and I don't think he'd be very lenient right now. I'm not exactly in shape to get any more injured anyway. As we made our way to the main house, I could hear everything around us without the distraction of escape. Moans, shuffling, even distant screaming. Oh dear god the screams. Lucas just chuckled at my horror.

"Looks like one of the newcomers found a game of mine. I'll check on em when supper is done."

Jesus Christ. I clamped down on the urge to run as far away as possible when a heavy sounding door is unlocked in front of us, the loud bolt lock sounding like my doom.

"Lucas! Get in 'eer boy! We have a very special feast planned tonight for the newcomers."

Jack. He sounds just as crazy as Lucas. But from the stiffness of the back I'm pressed against and the tightening of his hand Jack may very well be worse. Wonderful. Definitely smelled worse when the sweaty hillbilly brought me in for a bone crushing hug. At least he popped my back, but I think he tore a staple.

"Weeeeell lookit you. Mah boy saw it fit to bring ya to suppah now, did he? You call me 'Daddy' now ya hear. Can't have mah new daughter callin me Jack now can ah?"

I would really, reeaally rather not but the warning palm on my hip stalled my tongue. Do what he says, when he says, and maybe I'll live to see another day. Lucas' hand guided me through the filth and helped me stay upright with every stumble. Fok' sake do they never pick up around here?! I think I tripped on a pile of rotting newspapers and garbage bags for god sake.

Sneering in disgust, I push back on the maniac behind me, skin crawling on contact. At least he's clean. The house smelled like blood and wood rot with some weird musty organic scent that thankfully heavily overlaid others. Not strictly bad but overpowering and strong.

"Heeello everybody!"

At least two shrill screams came from the sight of my "husband," and he laughed outright at their fear. He tugged me towards the crying, and I dug my heels in as much as I could, fueled by the fear in the air.

"Damn it, woman! No need to be shy now. We're all family here."

With that, he slumps in a creaky chair dragging me into his lap.

"Luuucas. No need for that at the table."

He growled in the mat of my hair at his mother's high pitched admonishment.

"Woman still can't see. Barely can eat without help. I'm just tryin to be a helpful husband ma."

Oh, fuck you. I rear my head back a little and smirk as the back of my head collides with his nose. He pinched my hip, fingernails digging deep enough to slice skin. When I feel a drop of blood soak into the cotton sweats, he lets go. Message received, reviewed, and under consideration.

"Well we're all here anyway, Jack. Let's dig in!"

The sobs grew louder as they coax the people to eat. Could it really be that bad? Surprised at the sudden roar, I near jump outta my skin, not expecting Jack to lose his shit and from the sounds of it leap over the table at the poor souls across from me. One squealed in pain and the other in fear. Marguerite yelled over them somehow.

"Punish those no good bitches, Jack. I slaved over this meal for them for 3 hours! Gawdamnit you fucking bitches, you ungrateful freeloaders!"

They began to beg, two women, for mercy.

"Please! Please don't hurt my daughter!"

I was immediately sick to my stomach and gagged when I heard a shrill scream and some scrapes before a wet pop. Holy shit! Holy frick frack paddy wack someone save me from this nightmare! - screaming, I struggle to get out of Lucas's suddenly crushing grip. He snarls curses into my shoulder when the heel of my foot got a little close to his insanity-ridden family jewels and shook me harshly. A quick backhand made me bite my lip and probably bruised it.

"We made this special for you bitches! Are you gonna eat or do we gotta punish you too?"

Jack shoved something that felt like meat into my mouth, other hand working at opening my jaw before slamming it down on the pungent morsel. I was wrong. I was so, so, so very wrong. It could be that bad and worse.

My body began to immediately reject whatever the fuck that was, stomach heaving at the rotten and sour flavor that seemed to soak into every crevice of my mouth. Bile gurgled from the back of my throat into my mouth, and I was moments away from projectile vomiting everywhere. Lucas gave an almost panicked yelp and smacked a hand over my mouth trapping the thing and bile in my cheeks.

His large hand covered half my face while the iron bar of an arm squeezed my arms to my side. Trying to kick at him I knock the table, and a few angry screams sound around it. The man holding me in his lap bit my ear harshly before hissing instructions. I could feel the sharp throb in my lobe, a trickle of blood running down my neck. If I knew how much blood I'd be losing this evening I would have...well I'd probably never imagine this in my wildest nightmare, to be honest.

"You don't eat that Mama will cut your tongue out. Now fucking swallow."

When he didn't let go a few seconds later, I force down the mouthful of bile, and whatever that thing was. Stomach heaving in an effort to get it out. Lucas doesn't let go until I'm still and supper began to move normally, their short attention spans on my side. This time. Carefully slipping his palm from my face, I try to wiggle from his hold.

"Water. Please, water."

He grunts and doesn't let go, but he hands me a chipped glass full of grimy water with a rusty taste. Feeling 100x better with the taste almost gone I gulp that thing down like an Irish man in a bar. After I place it down with trembling hands on the edge of the table I lift my legs up and curl into a ball, tucked fetal and trembling, eyes flickering everywhere in a maniac effort to see something. Anything that could give me a slight advantage.

My skin may crawl, my mind may be incomprehensible in its anger of being so close to him, hell my lungs are almost constantly burning with the need to scream in anger and horror every time he touches me. But right now he's the only slightly sane person here capable and willing to protect me.

He didn't make me eat anymore, the rest of the table ignoring us either to cry ugly sobs or eat the disgusting food. Time went slowly and quickly in a montage of actions and robotic responses to Marguerite's gentle prodding of wedding dates. Apparently, we can't decide between a fall or spring service. He had to drag me back to his barn almost literally. He left me on the bed so he could shower and sighed when he saw I was still in the same place and staring at the wall.

I couldn't do it. I'm shutting down I can't even hear what he's probably muttering. Just static and rising horror that's drowning my senses. Will I have to die to feel a day without fear? I didn't react when he began to strip me. Offering no help but no resistance either. I wasn't surprised when he pushed me back onto the now dry bed naked once again. I expected this. I am disappointed really that he lied about not raping women. But I guess if I don't fight back he won't see it that way in his skewed mind.

I was surprised when he simply slumped next to me on the smallish cot, naked chest against my naked back with nothing on but boxers that rub against my bum.

"Lu-"

"Shudup and sleep!"

Biting my pained lip, I try to still my ravaging heart beat. I fell asleep quickly, mind and body gladly shutting down for rest and healing. In the back of my mind, I note how HOT my skin feels. Especially the tears on my back.


	6. Heat Wave

Heat Wave

Everything is hot and sticky, bare skin melded together and a snoring Lucas half on top of me crushing my lungs. Panting, I struggle to get free, stomach gurgling and throat burning. Why is it so Gawd damn hot?! Lucas came to with a start and a sleepy mumble before climbing off of me and leaving me free to toss myself over the bed.

"Wha- OH SHIT!"

I immediately began to wretch, body bowing and staples stretching in an effort to keep shape under the contortions. Some bile came up, but I kept the rest in, holding my breath and teeter, crawling in the direction of the bathroom, simply because I'm sure he'll make me clean it up.

When I make it to the freezing tiles, I collapse with a pant, soaking the cold into my burning skin. Ohhhh, fuck that's good. But it doesn't still my stomach, and soon I'm lumbering to the toilet, wrinkling my nose at the smell before my body gave me no choice and I could only hope I made it all into the bowl.

Lucas mutters a quiet fuck before flushing the toilet, and I jerked back to keep the spray from my face. Gross. I try to speak past a swollen tongue to tell him that it's too bloody hot before my head began to pound and my stomach cramps in the effort it took to throw up.

"Luu. Hot."

Crying silently I curl up on the ground and restrain myself from rolling around on the probably disgusting floor. I image steam rising up from my body at this point. Lucas doesn't do much after that, just dumps me on the bed with a bucket beside my head so I could find it and leaves me to my own devices.

He did periodically come in to give me water (half full bottles that have probably been laying around) and food (more chips and hotdogs) and lead me to the bathroom so I could clean myself (lead by the hand dug in my hair). He really couldn't do anything when the nightmares started.

There were ones of those monsters outside. A cross between a zombie and a shadow. A little girl giggling in my ear whispering evil into my mind. Blood. Blood everywhere. What I didn't see of Cathy's and Asha's death my mind certainly made up for in spades. Gory burnt flesh, cooked eyeballs in their sockets, faces twisted in grotesque mimicry of screams. I could only smell their burning flesh and my own body odor that was rank with fear.

I think days pass in this fitful way, Lucas giving up with a curse and leaving to sleep somewhere else after the second time I wake up screaming bloody murder, punching anything within reach. In my fever-cooked mind, I couldn't even cheer when he finally slammed the door shut. I could only writhe and crawl the now familiar path to the bathroom and turn on the coldest water there was. Blood began to leak through my nose when he next saw me. It felt like hours had passed but from the split of my lip, I think it was closer to a day or two.

He found me slumped and splayed on the bathroom floor, unable to stand the thought of being away from the cold of the room anymore, blood dripping from my nose like a broken faucet. I certainly feel broken. Again and again, I try to wipe away the blood pooling on my chest, finally giving up and just letting it slide down my stomach. Miserable, bloody, and just plain scared I instantly snap to attention when I hear the bathroom door open.

"Why won't it stop?"

His voice is distorted by the monsters.

"Yer changin from the inside out. It's replacing and infecting every cell in your body until there's nothing left."

"What is?"

"Eveline."

I shudder at the name. I don't know why he gives so much power to a little girl, but the high-pitched giggles in the back of my head gave a little confidence to his answer. I don't know how. I don't know why. I certainly don't know what with, but it's obvious now that whatever twisted thing is inside me has infected the Bakers. They've just had time to grow into madness through the years.

I don't question it, I just lean my pounding head back in an effort to staunch the bleeding. He helped me clean up, frigid rag a blessing as he mopped up the blood across my stomach and chest. I felt his tongue swipe my blood soaked lips with a laugh. I wanted to bite his face right off. I may have slept after that. I can't tell anymore as I notice the nightmares bleeding into reality helped along by my blindness.

When I came to again (I seriously need to stop passing out around him) Lucas was shaking my shoulder where I'm curled up on the bathroom floor. I felt lucid for the first time in a long time, body still exhausted from the emotional strain and the illness that wrecked it.

"Sit up. You need water."

Well, ain't he sweet. I grunt like a bear, sitting up slowly and trying to ignore my nakedness. It's not like he hasn't seen everything and I've been streaking almost constantly since I got here. I gulp down the water bottle like a dying man in a desert. Then again I can't even remember when the last time I ate or drank anything.

"How long?"

He's checking my stitches when I ask.

"Dunno. Few days, probably five."

"You don't even know?!"

He whacked me in the arm sharply at my raised voice.

"I've been gone a lot. Had shit to do. Yer alive aren't you?"

Fuck, just barely.

"And with you bein awake now I need you for a little test run."

Hell no!

"Don't worry. Just bait, not a player."

Oh, that is so fucking better! Jesus Christ, I'm too scared to ask what the test run is for. Shuffling me around, feeding me more junk food, and basically shoving me into what felt like a muscle shirt and basketball shorts he deems me presentable to the world, and so starts my day. Icky, hungry for anything that's not sugar-coated or covered with nacho powder, and just all around disgusting. Wonderful. He took me to the yard and suddenly dropped my arm.

"Fuck, I forgot the best part. Stay here wifey, I'll be right back."

He smacks my ass and leaves with a laugh. Jesus, is everything a game to him? I feel less like a piece of meat and more like a puzzle being forced out of shape for his amusement. Wanting to force a different picture to see what happens.

I stand there, hot August sun bearing down on my head when I'm poked in my side.

"Christ!"

I leap about ten feet in the air and turn wildly looking for whatever jabbed me. My heart stopped when I heard that familiar giggle.

"You're fun. Let's play."

Eveline. The mysterious little girl. My heart thumps out of control, and my lungs won't work. Her joy is squashed without my response, and I can feel her displeasure in the back of my head. So I smile shakily and hold out my hand.

"You must be Eveline. I'm so happy to finally meet you Lucas told me all about you."

None of it good but I keep that to myself. She starts skipping around me with a laugh.

"You're my new sister. You're Peach! Peeaachy Peach."

I shudder at the way her voice warps and warbles my name.

"Do you taste like a peach?"

It was murmured thoughtfully in front of me, and before I could react fully, she took my still hanging hand and dragged me forward. Her sticky stubs laced through my own fingers, little nails digging into the back of my hand.

"Let's play house until big brother comes to get you. You can help my other mommy in the kitchen."

Nooooonononono! I have a strong feeling who this other mommy is, and I currently want nothing to do with the crazy bitch. Sure I have some sympathy since I now know first hand what they must be experiencing on a small scale, but there's no way I want to be in a room with her. Or any of them for that matter. The stitches are itchy, and the staples are just plain annoying. I don't want any more.

The kid drops me off in the dining room, Marguerite cursing up a storm about the propane not lightning.

"Mommy! Look who I brought."

Nope. I want to freeze time and just turn around and walk out. Marguerite coos and awws at how cute it is we are holding hands, ignoring the white knuckle grip she has on me.

"Oh Peach come here and help me. Woman's gotta learn to cook when she's married."

She cackles and leans in next to my ear like it's a secret.

"Those boys are only good at bringing in the meat and completely useless in front of a stove. We gotta make sure they don't starve."

Her breath is sour, and under her words, I hear something like a beetle clicking. Do not want to know what kind of meat that is. Swamp monster probably. Or maybe rotten alligator guts.

"Eveline, can you bring this to Mia? Us ladies gotta make plans for the wedding, and I'm sure you don't want to be here for that."

Oh right. I almost forgot Marguerite is still standing by the whole marriage thing between Lucas and I. On a more important note, who the hell is Mia? Another tourist they captured? I hope she isn't one of the ladies from the last time I was here. My barely settled stomach rolled at the thought of what Jack did to them. I can physically feel Eveline leave the room, her oppressing presence leaving all at once. My shoulders slump, and my hands stop trembling. But she left me with a whole other problem.

"I'm sorry I can't be much help ma'am, but I still can't see right. Can you walk me through it instead?"

I lay it on thick with southern politeness, sugary voice almost giving me a toothache. Marguerite seemed to think I was the cutest thing since apple pie. She pinched my cheeks with bruising force and lead me into the kitchen where I can hear a pot bubbling.

"We're having gumbo tonight hon. It's mostly done, but you can help me peel some potatoes."

She hands me a wrinkly and rotten little potato along with a peeler. So that's what that sour smell is. Nasty. She quietly instructed me the correct way to make gumbo, and I continued to heavily lay on niceties even when it would get uncomfortable, and I had to think on the fly.

Just think of it as a spy mission. Yea, a mission to infiltrate the enemy and learn their weaknesses. So far I have found none other than the fact they are extremely sensitive and see everything as an insult. Wonderful. And then the dreaded wedding conversation.

"So did you and mah boy figure everything out with yer wedding?"

Shit. I can't exactly tell the woman I don't even want to be touched by the man who killed my friends after kidnaping us. And why did we never talk about this?! It feels like something semi-important to me. Plastering a simpering smile to my face, I gush, and it's everything I can do to hold my vomit down.

"A little. We fight a lot, but we always resolve it in the end. You see, he wants a fall wedding, and I'm thinking a spring one with lots of flowers. And we still can't decide if we want it outdoors."

There. That should keep her off my ass for a bit.

"What about a summer wedding?"

I jump again, peeler scraping over my thumb and taking some skin from my knuckle. Hissing I wrap it in my shirt and stand still as Eveline walks in the room. Marguerite just loves the idea, and the little brat is probably smirking. If I don't fix this I might be hitched before the month is up. My stomach grumbles and the monster mother hen is in action, scooping a bowl of slop despite my quick denials of not being hungry.

"Do you not WANT my food?!"

Fuck.

"It's not that it's just..."

"Just what!"

"I just got over a stomach bug! Don't want to accidentally throw up your cooking."

"But that just means you gotta eat good and get better. Come on hon, open wide."

Ok, so new mission. Get out of eating this disgusting smelling brew while not insulting the emotionally imbalanced chef. Easy enough. My shaky grin and a shakier excuse were cut off by my knight in a shabby hoody riding in on a noble ass.

"Fuck, that's where you got to you stupid bitch."

Marguerite gasped.

"Mama, she don't need to eat now. I'm trying to get her to lose a little weight."

I hiss through my teeth and my arm tenses up for a wild swing before he grabs me in a crushing grip, clammy hands tightening around my wrists. Just enough to make me relax my face. To remember to act and act well. I get the feeling the last thing he wants right now is his mother being angry at me.

"Luucas!"

She sounded like she was pacing.

"You need to be nicer, baby. A woman's self-esteem can take a toll when her husband does that."

Well, that's surreal. My fake husband is getting relationship advice from his insanely bipolar monstrosity against nature mother. He hummed and smacked a wet one right on my cheek. Fucker is making this difficult for me on purpose. I was right, this entire thing is a game.

"You're right. I'm sorry sunshine, I didn't mean it. Just don't want Eveline's friends gettin a hankering for your juicy ass."

I try not to gape, I really do, but I can't seem to pick my jaw off the floor to his cackling glee.

"Lucas! You better not be bothering your mother!"

With that loving husband, Jack enters the scene with a warthog grunt and stomping feet.

"No, just taking Peach back to our place. Don't worry bout feeding her ma I'll bring her a plate every now and then. I just don't want her to leave my rooms until she can see."

He snorts again, at his son's words or the exaggerated petting he was doling out on me. I don't know, and I hear the crisp crack of a can being opened. Probably beer. Jack don't seem like the soda pop type to me.

"Girl got 'ere jus fine didn't she?"

Tensions got thick again before my quick thinking "husband" picked me up in a koala hold again.

"Yea if you call me carrying her out here fine. She ain't leaving my sight that's final."

The tension popped like a bubble while his mother gushed about how romantic it all was and his father slapped him on the back way too hard.

"Keep her in the bedroom then boy."

We beat a hasty retreat before Marguerite could fly off the handle at the comments and take it out on me. His relaxed swaying hardened into a military march across the yard when he shoved the door into the open air.

"Would you believe me if I said Eveline dragged me in there?"

He grunted and kept my face in the crook of his shoulder. His actions are gentle and almost loving, but his voice was sharp and cruel.

"Don't get used to it. You're lucky to be in one piece right now."

I can feel his jaw on my shoulder tense.

"They're more lucid some days. Less likely to hurt ya. Stay in my sight, and we might not have to repeat this experience."

I decide not to remind him he left me there.


	7. I Can See Clearly Now THe Rains Not Gone

I Can See Clearly Now But The Rains Not Gone

I have no sense of time anymore, my body having adjusted to Lucas's crazy schedule. It's been more than a week's worth of days I think but no more than a month of this insanity. Thankfully Lucas hasn't brought me back for family dinner yet. He could go days without sleep or sleep for almost an entire day and my worn out self was taken on that roller coaster ride rather reluctantly. Trying to get back on a schedule was terrible when my own insomnia fed into his, and most days I was exhausted no matter how much I slept.

He may leave me in the room a lot, from the sounds of it, so I don't wander around and fuck up whatever project he's working on, but when I do leave he doesn't let me out of arm's reach. Always, I have a hand on me, be it my hip or back and even tangled in the hair I finally sorted through. He doesn't mention when I pull away or flinch, but he doesn't stop either. The first time he made me sit at his feet as he played his "games" I cried like a baby in fear.

I've graduated to sitting on his lap now, trying to tune out the screams as he plays. After probably weeks of it, I know for certain that there's a helluva lot more people than just a couple dozen. Even the longer lasting people that run around here at all hours trying to escape probably number higher. How has nobody noticed?! Well, I already know the answer. People don't care. These are probably homeless and runaways. No one is going to give a fuck about the streets missing a few vagrants.

At night we sleep together. I don't even try putting logic to it. There have been attempts on his life. All have clearly failed. He really needs to stop leaving his Leatherman in his jeans. Must be using that miracle juice that completely healed my own injuries within days because I never notice any stab wounds on his stomach when he forces me to spoon at night. It was not pleasant when he tore the stitches and staples out with pliers and maniac laughter.

It's after one of the more peaceful nights that I wake up with a jerk. Gray. Everything is gray, and my heart nearly bursts. This is the first shift of color I've had! I lied there, tense and waiting as my sight gradually began to lighten. Bursts of light came first. Then colors like pastels that darkened. As the transition came faster, my head started to hurt more behind my ears. Red and green then blues and browns.

Sunlight filtered through tiny windows on the roof. Probably around noon from how bright it is. Everything is vivid and beautiful. Even that grimy ceiling. Even this dirty uncovered mattress underneath me. Maybe not the pasty arm curled around my waist but, Jesus fuck I can see!

Keeping in my elated laughter, I try turning carefully towards the man at my back. The arm curled beneath me flexed before going still again, and I held my breath hoping he won't wake up. A blue wife beater is bunched up over his navel showing the pale expanse of his hard stomach and a dark, happy trail. His other arm is behind his head as if he was lounging.

Looking closely at his face, I drink in all the info I can from it. His scruff is more unkempt, but he's less greasy and pale looking than the last time I saw him. His hairline is just as far back, and the hollows of his cheeks carry dark shadows.

The sockets of his eyes look exaggerated and dead on the shaded side but normal in the other. I don't know which illusion to believe. I trace his face and find deeper stress lines in his forehead and around his eyes. They make him look 10 years older than his mid-20s. It was a little sad for a split second.

His eyes snap open with the suddenness of a scared cat, eyes flickering everywhere before settling on me. I try to stay still and not be affected by the shock of his sudden wakefulness. Let him just think I'm staring blankly and get creeped out. Instead of rolling over or yelling at me he creeps closer. It's harder to maintain a calm facade as he inches his face to mine.

"Ya know, yer easier to read than a children's book."

My response was swallowed by a harsh and unwanted kiss clashing our teeth together, forcing my mouth open before he pulled back and calmly got out of bed. Figuring my secret is already blown I shot to the bedside and began spitting to get the taste of sour sugar out of my mouth. Why won't he brush his teeth before bed?!

"You disgust me."

"Likewise, sweetheart."

I turn away when he begins to strip, catching a flash of butt as he trades out boxers. I notice blandly that my right eye is slightly blurry but shrug it off. Beggars can't be choosers. Our routine didn't change much. He tossed me clothes that must have either come from his closet or from the dead people.

I showered and tried to ignore him brushing his teeth or whatever he would be doing a few feet from me before he'd drag me out and got a start on the day. This time he's making me help fix up a tractor now that I can see. Not the typical 'pass me that wrench' shit but actually in the engine and getting my hands filthy. I was covered in grease and car guts by the end, and we both smelled of motor oil.

I only had to be drug back by my hair once after what feels like a courtesy escape attempt. I know Lucas will catch me, sight or no sight, so I didn't put much effort into it. But I did draw blood while hissing and spitting so one point for me. It spiraled out of control as he hefted me up and then slammed me into the tractors grill.

I fought and dug broken nails into his face, pinky catching his eyelid. I watch in fascination as the thin skins tears from the sharp nail cutting almost all the way through tiny capillaries bursting in a pattern across his lid.

It's like slow motion, and I wonder if it was really a few minutes ago we were working in relative peace, listening to trashy rock and fixing up a mechanical dinosaur. I get socked in the jaw for my trouble, held tightly between the grill and the hard body pressing between my spread legs. A dam burst behind my eyes and in my mind.

"Jesus, asshole. Gawd damn it!"

Mama woulda whacked me for the string of curses saturating every hiss I drew for a good long minute. He snorted, and tears rushed into my eyes. Does he not care? Was all closeness we shared just a sham, and he's actually been waiting for this moment to get rid of his annoying little tag along?

"I was your friend. I only wanted to be your friend! Do you get some kind of sick enjoyment from putting off killing me? Did you expect me to get to the point of fighting back because broken toys aren't amusing enough? Tell me why!"

He is far from amused.

"I'm getting real sick of your attitude, girly. Wanna know a secret? I'm not the one that fucked you over, that was your little friends."

I slapped him and wish I hadn't. His eyes bulge, revealing teeth as his cruelly curved lips draw back, slick and shark-like.

"Fuck you."

It was a weak curse at best, and despite my bravado, I felt sick to my stomach. There's no way I'm getting out of this unscathed. Dropping me like a hot potato, he then drags me hissing and spitting to his observation room. He grabbed me by the arms when I bit him and shook me until I couldn't see straight.

I never fought so hard, but it looks like the skinny boy had some tricks up his hoodie sleeves because he barely grunted. He takes out my legs sitting us both down heavily on the worn out swivel chair. I weakly wiggle while he clicks away at one of the many monitors in front of us.

"Fucking look!"

I did. The picture was grainy, but I can clearly see the three women in it. Asha Cathy and I. With a press of his finger he sped it up to me sleeping and the girls doing other things.

"Please. We'll do anything for food!"

I look away. Seems like it didn't just stop at the make out session anyways. I nearly ask why Lucas's making me watch this, tears rising with my discomfort.

"Keep watching."

He sped it up a little again past the orgasmic high-pitched voices crying out. A door opened immediately, food piled high on a plate. I gape at this and feel my heart sink. They dug in with relish, Asha grabbing Cathy when she turns to my shivering body curled up in a far corner.

"No. We earned this."

There was a small fight, but it was hushed, and Cathy eventually agreed. Again he keeps speeding up to them eating their hoard and gradually only giving me a fraction of the water they had. I had thought he just wanted to keep us thirsty and always needing more.

Cathy didn't even look that guilty later on. It looks like he has an entire album of their betrayal just waiting for me and I felt sick. Sick of him, sick of life, and sick of this burning guilt I have in my stomach over me being alive and them dying.

"Please! Stop Lucas."

I bite my lip, but that didn't halt the crying.

"One more baby."

"Hey. Hey, Baker. We're ready to decide."

Asha again. Cathy is sitting against the wall, head in her hands, shoulders shaking.

"Oohhhh?"

I flinch at the sound of his voice coming from the speakers.

"You said one person dies and the rest leave. Well, we've decided."

"Ah, I seeee. And is my little peach aware of this?"

He already knew. I want to say he planned it and he probably did. But that won't change the fact he wasn't the one keeping food and water from me. He may have played dirty, but he wasn't the one who willingly put me on the chopping block. With a shiver, I know he was veering for me to be alive since the beginning. No matter their choice I would have made it out.

"Yes. She's blind and weakening. We all figured that us two would have a better chance."

Oh fuck. I let out an ugly sob and curl my knees up.

"Then be mah guest."

His voice is absolutely feral without the high pitched insanity. An axe and rope are behind an opening door. The footage cuts off there leaving the screen black and me with the full sight of my reflection. I look away from my haggard appearance. The days have not been kind to me.

Lucas didn't let go. He kept his hand flat against my stomach, thumb gently rubbing circles over my ticklish ribs, the other dug into my hair, gently massaging my scalp. I expected him to laugh or make some insane joke, but he just sits there face buried in my shoulder and allows me to cry and scream and curse those two hopefully beyond the grave.

I want to tear something apart. I want to hurt them like they hurt me. I want something, anything to make me feel alive. I sob until my eyes were swollen and red, still seated and yet I still don't feel sated. I need violence. I need to feel. I need passion of some kind to take my mind off it.

With an electric zing up my spine, I realize I want to lose my mind in pleasure so I can't even think of feeling shit.

It is not a good idea. A terrible idea. I bite my lip and grind back against him anyways. It's barely a bump, but I feel his dick grow hard. If he were a good man, hell if he were a somewhat moral man, he would have pushed me off. He grinds up, and I feel his lips humming against my shoulder.

"Damn Peachy, if ah knew this would be yer reaction ah woulda told ya sooner."

His leg jumps like a jackrabbits and grunts when I elbow back as hard as I can.

"Shut the fuck up before I walk away."

I move back and forth, more trying to get his harder planes to touch my sensitive clit instead of trying to rub his erection. It's a half-assed lap job, but he groans in appreciation and rubs up. Looks like just about anything could get his motor running. I feel everything flush as he reaches up with fumbling fingers to pull on a nipple. Sounds like he's not the only one.

With a snarl he lifts me up and marches us over to one of his more sturdy work tables, swiping violently at the clutter. I can almost feel the vibrations of falling tools and objects hitting the ground. I'm dropped face first before he flips me and grips my hips in a bruising fashion.

"Say no."

I look up in shock, and I'm drawn in by his almost glowing blue eyes. They are the only consistent thing about him despite his maniac sheen. I can remember what he said when I first came here. He doesn't rape women. And he's not going to start with me. So I don't speak and settle a bit more comfortably against the hard wood of the table.

My pants are tugged off tactlessly leaving me bare to the damp air, having long since given up on getting actual panties. Lucas gives my parts a long and heated look, and I almost snap my legs closed. I flush in absentminded embarrassment.

I always keep my parts clean no matter how short he cuts my showers. One learns to scrub downstairs and underboobs first with a time constraint. But I haven't even seen a razor in more than a month, the neat trimmed triangle above my labia has overgrown. He pauses at the sight but shrugs and presses into the mound with a rough palm.

He licked a stripe up the burnished honey tone of my thigh, his relative paleness stark when between my legs. It was slightly jarring but not enough to make me stop. In fact, I kind of liked the contrast. He lowered his head and drew a long breath in like a drowning man. I actually did snap my legs close with a flush burning up my neck and face. Weirdly hot. Still depraved.

He tore my thighs apart and lowered his head down onto my cunt. My back bowed, and hips tingled on contact. It's been way too long. The oral was sloppy, but where he lacked in finesse, he made up in spades with enthusiasm. He acts like a starved man in front of a buffet, sucking labia and the extremely sensitive skin around my hole, nose buried so deep my clit almost hurt from the friction.

My first orgasm was sharp and fast when he discovered the use of a clit and sucked hard. My second one was slower and deeper sinking into my spine and skull. The third one was torture. He wouldn't stop no matter how much I pushed back, begging for a break. It's like he couldn't hear me and my disgusting sobs, that could have very well been begs of encouragement at this point.

I lost all hearing halfway through what seems like an hour of this. I was breathing so hard, and so fast my stomach went concave, and I felt light headed. It's been so long since I could even rub one out that my body had grown used to its inactivity. But now it roared to life demanding more to satiate my libido. And sate it I did. More than enough.

I finally came when he slipped a couple fingers up inside of me, curling them against the spongy spot right inside and popping them straight repeatedly, so quickly I could hear his knuckles popping under the wet squish of my cunt. He sat up from where he must have fallen to his knees. I wish I could have seen him fall. He wipes away the wet cum with the back of his hand and smirks.

"Damn woman!"

Fuck him. I tear off my loose T with a growl while he begins to unbuckle his pants. I'm about to yell at him 'no sex' when he finally popped his fly and shoved me back down before I could get a good look at his package. I did feel the burn of his heavy erection lay against my stomach though. Alllll the way to my belly button. Shit.

He chuckles and angles himself to lay in between my soaked labia. Before I could ask what he's doing, he thrusts and my clit throbs. He pushes my legs together and rubs harder, inflaming my nerves. I could have easily tilted my hips a little, and he would have slid right in. Wouldn't be any resistance with how much I'm dripping. But I don't, and neither does he, some unspoken line to not be crossed.

He discarded the hoodie a while ago, but I still reach up against his sweat-soaked shirt. My typically chilled hands felt like there were little fires beneath my fingertips and I smirked when Lucas jerked above me when they made contact with his sweat-chilled stomach. The air around us smelled of sweat, sex, and the almost sweet organic rot of the bayou. My sinuses were full of nothing but that. My mind could not go beyond this moment, and my inflamed nerves burned over my entire body. It felt like an out of body experience, and I balk at the very idea. He shouldn't be allowed to make me feel this good. It's not fair!

I saw lights, and my heart almost felt like it skipped a beat as my insides clenched spastically. My high wore off quickly, and my disgust floored me. I did that. I really did that. Lucas quickly lowers his body on mine, elongating his torso against me trapping me in one spot as he thrusts frantically.

Lucas grunts against my ear, and I feel the wet splatter of cum against my stomach. He backed up a little, to weakly jerk himself off, the rest of his load shooting against my inner thighs and over my sex. Sniffing I cross my arms over my eyes and just lie there and try desperately to grasp the post orgasm haze that will not make me regret this with every cell in my body. He lifts my leg suddenly and cracks a full hand across the sensitive place where my ass and thigh meet.

"Yah ain't allowed to cry 'bout this. Yah begged for it and ah have no time for yah to have some existential crisis."

I gave a listless laugh and swallowed my tears. Lucas's right, of course, the ass. Uncovering my eyes, I look up at him and ask the question that's been burning me since the beginning.

"Lucas, was I ever your friend or was it just pretend?"

The hand gripping the back of my knee tightens, and his other smooths over my hip. He doesn't answer, and I feel like I'm breaking all over again. This was a mistake.


	8. The Process Of Giving In

The Process Of Giving In

He let me lay there for a moment before giving me a devious smirk and rubbed his cum in. I scowl as his large and calloused hands slip over the slight curve of my lower stomach and thighs until his boney fingers came back tacky. It left me dripping and trying desperately not to think too closely about my reaction. Now is not the time to discover new gross kinks. I refuse.

He helps me back into the sweats on the floor with an ass smack and a smile. Grimacing at the sticky feeling, I don't dare ask to shower. I've already pushed far enough today, and while he's probably still fuzzy after an orgasm, I'm not gonna go begging for trouble. Again.

"Come on Peaches. We gotta get tah supper before Ma tries to tear me apart again."

He clicks his tongue before tossing me the dirty T on the floor.

"She's been pissy bout me not bringing you back for dinner."

The fuck?

"Wait, what?"

"Yea, they're not doin' too good these days."

He giggles. It's dark and covered with a scowl while he grips his arm.

"Don't be a smart mouth today, baby cakes. Ahm not gettin between you and the knife."

Ummm? Ummmmmmmmmm?!

"Do they...do they actually hurt you?"

I think it came out wrong, instead of fear at the inevitable stabbing and more concern for domestic abuse I guess. Lucas wiggles his brows while zipping up his signature jacket.

"Don't worry bout me honey buns. We gotta make sure you live through the night."

I take a leap off the table and almost onto my face, weak legs unable to support my weight. Exhaustion came over me like a wave, and I felt heavy all at once. Jesus, I feel like a ton.

"Uh uh uh. You ain't sleeping on me now, sugar tits."

Oh, I bet you're real proud of that one.

"We gotta make an appearance soon, or Eveline may try to destroy the barn."

He turns and walks out leaving me to follow on wobbly legs. He does slow down for me at least. This'll be the first time I can actually get a good look at anyone other than Lucas and my stomach drops in dread as I think about the demon-like appearance of Jack. Will sweet Marguerite be so twisted? And what about that grandma Ca- they mentioned? Has Grandma Baker actually risen from the grave as a zombie? Or maybe possessed by a less than benevolent spirit? At this point, I'm open to anything.

More moaning, more screams. Only this time I can associate the sickly looking forest and shambling shadows to the sounds. The only thing I can hear living other than the torture screams of victims were fat crows that swoop on the bloated corpses that probably litter the property.

"LucAAS! BOY GET YER ASS IN HERE FOR SUPPA!"

Jack. He looks just as demonized as before and twice as sinister with what looks like a meat hook in one hand and a shotgun in the other. I jump behind Lucas as he raises the hook to point at us. The wicked point glimmers in the faint light of the sky.

"Wheeeell if it ain't ya little peach. How come ya haven't been around darlin'? Can't have a honeymoon without the weddin'!"

He full-belly laughed and dropped the menacing hook.

"Come on in then. Yer mama's outdid herself this time. Just gotta wait for the oven to finish the job."

His smile looks like he has hooks in the corners of his mouth. Creepy. Lucas threads his fingers through mine, and I want to take the hook and cut off my hand. At least I half do. The stupidly large part of me still lingering on the fan-fucking-tastic orgasms he gave me is ready to build a statue in his likeness. I shut the depraved bitch up but hold on tighter as I can finally associate the disgusting smells and clutter to a decrepit home that looks like a crack house covered in mold.

"Peach!"

Marguerite tackles me in a crushing embrace, knocking my hand out of Lucas's. I desperately try not to think about the cum caked over my stomach and thighs while his mother hugs me. Do. Not. Think. About. It.

When she pulls back, I look behind her to see Eveline smirking like she knows all my secrets. Next to her is an uncomfortable and sickly looking Zoe. She's lost weight. A lot of it. Heck, she's almost as bad as the boy at my back, twice as haggard and a lot less crazy. She faintly smiles at me, but I can see the hardness in her eyes. Looks like Lucas isn't the only sober one here after all. Maybe I do have an alternative?

Marguerite drags me to the dining room and sits me down at what looks like a blood stained table top with three passed out people at the table. Two boys and one girl this time. They look like college students, and I look away in disgust. Lucas, not wanting to feel left out obviously, makes me stand back up and then sits back in his lap. As everyone settles, I see what looks like an older woman take a seat beside us. White poofy hair but her face is so young and smooth. Her eyes are milky with age, and I can hear her joints creak with every shift but still. Her face.

"Eveline?"

She smiles like a shark, face sagging and contorting slightly in a way no little girls should. Lucas's long fingers creep up the hem of my shirt ignoring me trying to process this THING right in front of me. Hearing a smack and a crunch I look over to see Marguerite with a smashed rat under her hand its blood and guts squeezing between fingers.

Gagging, I elbow Lucas, but he just comes back more aggressively and with a hiss. I can't do this. I stand up from his boney lap and stumble away.

"I gotta use the restroom Mama Baker. Get cleaned up and everything."

God, I want to get cleaned up from the dried spunk, but I have bigger fish to fry. She nods from where she's fiddling with the dead rat.

"I, uh, already know where it is. Won't be long."

I can feel the heavy weight of Lucas's eyes on me as I try to calmly walk up the half-ruined stairs to the bathroom. More importantly to the bedrooms. Maybe if I snoop around, I can find some info about what's going on or better yet an actual weapon. See how these people fare against a gun.

There! The main bedroom that I never even looked at. If anyone has a forgotten firearm in their room, it's Jack. He loved hunting, dragged his kids out every season. The door was thankfully ajar, so I gently opened it and crept inside, closing it just enough so it doesn't look messed with. Still, my heart thumps uncomfortably. I need to make this fast. The room I turn to is surprisingly clean and neat. Dark, yes, but it looks like something other than monsters live in it.

I push away the niggling of hope and start frantically searching around for anything sharp or heavy and blunt. Lifting a small picture frame, I see a wedding picture of the Bakers. Marguerite was stunning back then, killer cheekbones and a small waist. She was already showing her pregnancy and glowed even in the grainy, aged photo. Jack looks like a jollier and chubbier version of Lucas. Same eyes, same hooked nose. They were happy. Vibrant. I slam the frame back down and resume my search.

Instead of something deadly I find something interesting in a shoe box under the clutter of the walk-in closet labeled "Lucas's bills." Inside was a mess of hospital bills and doctor evaluations along with the creeping realization that whatever is wrong with him has more to do with than just Eveline. He's too sober. Too calculated in comparison to his family's tank mindset. Destroy with skill, not strength.

I flip through the pages of medical nonsense while trying to remember the snippets from my psychology class. Lucas is an almost textbook psychopath. Meticulous, smart, manipulative. But there's more. He obviously didn't hide his strangeness from anyone, and I'm getting the feeling he's not faking emotional responses. Brain scans are looked through with confused eyes before I set them down with a sigh and just think. He's obviously mentally disturbed even without Eveline's hand in all this.

But what is it? If I know maybe he could become more predictable, easier to handle. Is it possible for psychopaths to form obsessive attachments to another person? Or is that an emotional response? Oh fuck, I can't even remember. Sociopathy is just too...wait. Can a sociopath have both symptoms?

He's smart as a whip and as organized as they come. He finds enjoyment in elaborate, foolproof murder but he's so erratic with emotions I don't think he's faking them. Maybe he got them from Evie? With a flash, I remember that laptop I had so lovingly named Titan for its size and age.

He made it for me with his bare hands. I would say that's an emotional response if nothing else. Or class A manipulation. I slam the box lid shut and scuttle from the room before anyone notices my long absence in the dining room, left with more questions than answers. Lucas was waiting for me when I turned the corner to get back to the stairs, and I freaking squeaked like a dog toy when I got a mouthful of an ugly green hoodie.

"Did I tell you that you could go in there?"

My heart stopped.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I just went to the bathroom!"

I folded my arms and lean back to try and get some space from the towering man.

"I'm not stupid, sweetheart. Did you find what you were looking for?"

I look ahead resolutely, and he sighs in defeat.

"Ah don't care what ya think, but Ahm doing this…"

He waves the air between us.

"... for you. So that you can fucking survive. And Ah will continue to do that, but Ah need some cooperation Peach."

He used my actual name. That's what jarred me the most despite his serious tone and lack of mania accenting his words. His accent is as heavy as his voice. Class A manipulation? Maybe. Is it starting to work? I hope not. He took me by the small of my back and lead me down the steps before pausing.

"Great. Looks like food's done. If you could call that shit food."

I nod in agreement and follow his hand. I grimace at the wafting scent of rotting meat.

"What IS that?!"

The hand behind me grips the t-shirt tightly.

"I'll tell you later, just don't think too hard about it. And for the love of gawd don't eat it."

Oh, Jesus. He led me back to the table, and my throat tightens when I see the pale rotting meat on the table. I think I can see worms wriggling in what looked like intestines. Did I actually eat that? No wonder I got so sick. When I finally get out, I need to be checked for freaking worms.

We sat back down, and I try to get as far away from the creepy old Eveline as possible while not wiggling too much on the dick against my ass. As long as I live, Lucas isn't touching me again. And as long as I live I'll ignore the voice whispering that of course I will if he can eat me out like that.

"Eat up!"

A plate was slammed in front of us by Zoe who looked as sick as I felt. But she gave me a crooked brow and simply sat down next to the tied up people.

"Be quiet and follow my lead."

I nod and watch as his parents gorge themselves on the food and the people slowly wake up. Marguerite was the biggest shock when immediately little bugs began to crawl from under her clothes and hair to feast. Disgusting. Evie just watched with soft eyes even as Zoe and Lucas just fiddle with their plates.

The people tied up slowly began to stir, and I watch in fascination at their immediate panic. Was that really me not too long ago? One of the boys, the one with long brown hair, began to try and break the chair while screaming for help as loud as he could. It's no use, but I can't exactly tell him that. Lucas tosses a piece of meat into his gaping maw with a childish giggle when he chokes and gags.

"LUCAS!"

I recoil from his pissed mother.

"What? The fucker wasn't gonna eat, just helping him along!"

Damnit, dude. Not the time!

"No cussing at the table boy!"

Hypocrites. They cuss enough to choke me. I watch in amazement as his plate flies with an arch that was like poetry. Riiiight in the middle of the writhing group and getting the "food" everywhere. Hair, faces, even in a mouth of one or two from the gags. The hysterical thought made me giggle. It would be a little funny if I didn't know how nasty that was.

"Oh mother fuck, what is this shit?!"

I flinch back when the boy with a buzz cut starts yelling hysterically. Jack is having absolutely none of that and swings a knife and sliced half of his nose off in one go. Gaping like a fish, I watch him tear off the floppy tip and throw it out of the room in anger.

"Now that I have your attention, my lovely wife here made you ungrateful bastards suppa. My Marguerite slaved over this here food! So for every second you don't eat, this bimbo loses a finger."

He stabs down severing the girls pinky finger. The boys began straining forward but their bonds wouldn't let them further, and they sobbed along with her. Jack lifts up the knife again, and I notice the rest of the table going back to eating or fiddling. Red hot anger washed over me, and I struggle against Lucas.

"THEY CAN'T FUCKING EAT THIS SLOP WHEN YOU DON'T FUCKING UNTIE THEM YOU STUPID ASSHOLE!"

I finally got free and scrambled over his lap standing a distance from the table.

"You wanna run that by me again little girl?"

He's too calm, but I forge on anyway and inch around the table to the door.

"You heard me you, inbred hillbilly."

"Peach! Get the fuck back here and apologize."

Lucas is fuming reaching for me just as his father does. Scrambling thoughts make him seem sinister, and I can't trust what he said earlier. I can't trust him to protect me right now.

"No."

"GET THE HELL BACK HERE NOW!"

I flinch away and almost do it simply because he's never raised his voice like that at me.

"NO!"

I turn as if to run away through the shrouded doorway but I can't outrun Jack who leaps over the table to grab me by the shirt and drag me back. All the kicking and screaming didn't stop the fact that I was pinned face first on the table, head turned so I can see the tear-rimmed eyes of our guests. I guess if it keeps them safe tonight I can withstand this.

That entire thought along with any seed of martyrdom went out the window when Jack grabbed my left arm, outstretched it, then stabbed his bloody steak knife into my arm pinning me to the wood of the table. I would have worried about blood transferred diseases if I wasn't suddenly short-circuiting with the pain.

The knife slid and scraped between the bones of my forearm, and he laughed at my shrill screams. My blood boiled, my teeth tingled, and every hair on my body stood to attention. With a scream like a howl, I tear out the knife shoved in my hand from Eveline's plate with my teeth.

"You wanna fight, little girl?"

Fuck this. Good thing he's on my right side, shoving over one of the boys in the process, or this probably wouldn't work. I stab into Jack's gut twisting and cutting up until I feel the jarring halt of his rib cage. The back of my throat burns sharply, but I don't stop there. Still pinned by my arm, I tear out the serrated steak knife and jab it high between his ribs, slicing deeply into the bone when I can't find the gap, again and again. His lungs are destroyed, flopping aimlessly around in his chest cavity. I laugh like a maniac and lick up the trail of his blood on my arm ignoring the sting and black quality.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!"

Marguerite had me by the hair, I distantly think about cutting it off to avoid that when she stabs Her. Fucking. Hand! Into the side of my stomach!

If I thought the knife was torture this was a new tier of pain. She giggled as her hand tore muscle and fat with claw-like nails and unnatural strength. It slipped around in my guts squeezing intestines until I thought they ruptured.

Lucas, it seems, had gotten disturbed by the sight or the sounds of my agony. Or maybe his ears are ringing from my high pitched shrieks. Either way, he stands up and grips the knife in my arm, yanks it out with a wet pop, and stabs it directly into his mother's eye to the hilt before pulling the deranged monster away. Immediately my thirst for violence disappears, and I'm left to look at the Baker parents in horror. The girl-woman clucks her tongue like a disappointed mother as they writhe and still. I can feel myself dying, damaged organs and muscles forcing my body into a dangerous shock. The mind numbing pain was splashed with something actually numb and sharp medical smelling while I mutter like a mad woman.

"Oh my god they're dead. Lucas, we killed them, holy shit."

My words become more and more slurred, and I try to crawl away on the filthy table before Lucas yanks me back by the ankle.

"Shudup. They ain't dead, and neither are you. Now keep your innards in before your skin heals around it."

What? He carefully stuffed twisted intestines that his mother had managed to yank out back inside, hand covering my mouth when I began to scream again at the feeling of inflamed nerves being touched. The world tilted and blurred but my adrenaline and suddenly found stubbornness refused to let me under the sweet touch of darkness. I felt the slick and somewhat familiar feeling of numbing oil.

"There. Was that so hard?"

Yes, it absolutely was. My mind cleared enough to notice Zoe was gone and Lucas was holding my face in his hands, lightly smacking me back into awareness. So much for alternatives. The guests were passed out except for the boy with the buzz cut, but when I reach out to him to assure he's ok, he screams.

"Monster!"

I draw back when he wouldn't stop and look up at Lucas, feeling curiously numb in both mind and body. I look down in fascination. My hand and arm barely have scars, and the stomach wound was still raw but completely healed over with angry pink tissue.

"How am I still alive?"

He shook the almost empty bottle at me the strong smell wafting over my sinuses. It's the same stuff that he used on my back but better. Looking at the oily residue I notice black flecks floating around, and I don't know why, but I get a bad feeling from them.

"Why didn't it work like that last time."

He lifts up a bloody hand rubbing scarred fingers together. The closer I look the more dark flecks I see.

"The blacker you are inside, the more it works."

It's my blood. It's turning black just like that crows so long ago. Just like the river of strangely tasting blood on my arm from Jack. I heard a strangled gasp and Lucas moved immediately, tugging me off the table with a bruising grip on my upper arm.

"Come on. Now!"

Shit, I am in so much trouble. I feel a twinge of guilt now. If I had just listened to him, he would have been able to de-escalate the situation and save me a near death experience. But I shove it aside. What's done is done. He steps over his parent's bodies, not allowing me to linger and watch in fascination as they seemingly come back to life.

"YOU STUPID CUNT!"

My heart races and my stomach hurts when Marguerite screams from the open doorway.

"I got it Ma!"

She pauses at that surprisingly.

"If I don't see marks I'll do it myself."

He just grunts and slams the door open. Lucas lead me in the direction of trees my bare feet occasionally squelching in the swamp mud. He dragged me by the arm, his parent's deafening yelling fading behind us. He's so angry I knew I should be begging for my life. For forgiveness. But I can't find it in myself to even entertain the thought of such degradation.

We walk for what seems like forever in the now dark woods, the almost full moon shining brightly enough to show us the way. He tosses me ahead of him suddenly where I trip into a field. A dry place in a filthy swamp. Filled with junk and broken glass. Must be where they dump all of their trash.

"You wanna scream, scream. You wanna cry, you fucking cry."

He got down to my level and hissed dark words into my ear. The back of my head fizzled with black and hate.

"But if you EVER disobey me in front of them or anyone again and I'll cut off your fucking limbs and keep cutting them off until you learn right."

Cowering away I curl up as closely into myself as possible. Lucas's threat isn't an empty one.

"Now go."

"Wh-hat?"

He snorted like a pit bull and threw down a 2x4 beside him.

"Trash this place. Let it out. I'll allow it for tonight."

Oh, thank you, my Lord. How gracious. But still, I grab the splintery board as I slowly rise up, phantom pains and fatigue almost dragging me back down. I'm done with crying for today, emotions raw and topsy-turvy. I don't even remember how to handle the almost extreme changes of emotion. One day too fucking exhausted to move or get out of bed, laying there as I berate myself to near tears (because what kind of slob can't even get out of bed?) and the next a restless elation that toes the line of anxious.

This past week though I'm a more normal temperament, my body finally adjusting without the added assistance of pills. I'm almost ashamed to say today is one of those better days and I have nothing to blame but myself. For the almost sex, for the self-destructive scene that I'm still reeling over. Shame melts into the easier emotion of anger.

A vanity is my first victim. When I see my reflection in its spiderweb mirror, I can't help but smash it. I feel like I should look different, unable to recognize the familiar features. But I'm still the same, and it's wrong. My army of freckles still marches over my nose and cheekbones, even my chin and forehead. My lighter honey skin is losing tone, but I'm still the same color. My eyes are still tilted and hazel. My flat and wide nose still the crooked break from falling out of a tree as a kid. My lips twist in a disgusting snarl, and I almost recoil at the familiar gap between my front teeth.

Gripping the board so hard I feel splinters dig under my skin, I set up and swing to finish the job and shatter the tarnished mirror from the probably antique vanity. I feel no guilt. I can't feel anything but anger. Shrieking like a banshee, I swing at anything with a vague reflection and when my weapon snaps I use my fists.

Until I'm cooled and feeling like my insides have been scooped out, I look out the corner of my eye to see Lucas leaning against a tree, hands behind his head and an unlit cigarette between his lips. I snort. Probably thinks it makes him look cooler, but I can't deny the allure of the addictive cancer stick between the mouth of danger. Unpredictability. I feel as if I'll be embracing that soon enough.

In the dark cover of night, I can clearly see what Lucas was meant to look like without whatever this thing inside of us ravaging him and his youth. Points became softer and dips less shallow. He was handsome almost. Certainly had a magnetism that drew me in, cheekbones and sharp jaw line forcing me to admit his unconventional attraction. Night gave him the illusion of health and that stupid and almost obsessive voice in my head wanted to see this Lucas for real. Hell, maybe with some tattoos and piercings. He'd look good with harsh metal and ink meeting harsh feature.

Legs wobbly and hands shaking I walk up to him and silently hold out my hand. I haven't smoked for years now but not too late to pick bad habits back up again. He gives me the cigarette and tugs me closer. Equal exchange I guess.

"Do you have a light?"

My voice was hoarse and strangled. With fumbling hands, Lucas grabs a shiny gold zippo from his cargo pants. If I didn't know any better, I'd say his hands were shaking too when he passed it to me. They settled over my hips, and I decided to ignore the minute tremble and instead try to settle my own to light up the cigarette. When frustrated tears came to my eyes, he casually grabbed it from me and lit it up. I don't bother thanking him just cherrying the cigarette and inhaling as deeply as possible.

The lack of oxygen from the deep inhales, and nicotine works fast on my brain, and he hands me a second just as I finished the first. I was halfway through my third in probably 10 minutes before my shaking calmed down. He had brought me in closer when I began to sway so I could feel his prick lightly poking my stomach. Maybe if I...

I snuff out the remaining cigarette before I could think this through and drop to my knees, hands pressing lightly into his thighs, fingers digging into the hem of his pants. This is just a thank you for earlier. And maybe hope for act 2 tomorrow because I'll be passed out when we get back. No thinking right now, I can stop after tomorrow when everything's better.

I know some stuff. Not much but in the two partners I've had I've learned a couple tricks. Like how to unzip a zipper with my teeth. He groans and relaxes from places I didn't know he was tense. Tugging his pants and boxers down, I carefully take his cock out and look at it from under my lashes. It may not be the thickest, but it's certainly thicker than average and most definitely the longest I've seen in person. Huh. Guess Gina was right. Most skinny boys got a not-so-little secret.

"Peach are ya-"

To shut him up I put as much spit on my tongue as I can and lick up the bottom of his dick. Base to reddening tip. Then I steel my nerves and gulp it down as far as I could get it, swallowing around it until I hear his head thunk against the tree.

It was heavy and strong tasting in my mouth. Obviously, he cleans well, and I can appreciate the hygiene. I always liked this sensation. The heat, the taste, and texture. Even the cum to an extent. But I can't handle it going further back than my mouth. I hate the feeling of my throat being blocked by anything let alone a dick. That just means I learned to make do and actually use my tongue and hands. Doubt he's ever had a blow job anyways from the frozen look on his face, so I don't think I have much to go up against.

Backing up slowly so he can slip out of my throat without triggering a gag reflex, I start to work him. It may not be dignified, but I don't have lube, so I use my drool and force his knees to bend a little. Way too tall. Fisting the inches I can't fit into a slobbery hand, I move fast, putting the cock to my cheek as I bob in sync. He grabs my head temples, slightly crushed from his hold, but he doesn't stop me or try to take control. Using my other hand, I carefully take his balls and squeeze with light pressure.

It's enough to make him buck, slipping from my cheek back into the back of my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut so I can concentrate on the pleasurable feeling of raw lips and hot dick and restrain my gag reflex. He takes this as a signal to go I guess because he braces his legs and holds me still as he begins thrusting harder and further.

Ok, I've got this.

My hand stops him from going too far, and I continue working it as his movements become shakier and more uneven. All it takes is lightly dragging my nails down the back of his scrotum for him to shoot off. He shoved me as far down as he could, most of the cum making it down my throat in one go but he backs up, and I squeeze the rest in my mouth.

He pops out just as the last of his cum spurts, coating my lips and chin. Quickly showing him the mouthful as I was taught, I swallow. It's a little bitter but not bad. Certainly not like Mike who had an almost entirely red-meat-based diet.

Lucas's body slumps down the tree, splaying his legs around me. The boy looked star-struck, to be honest, and it's easy for my ego to inflate a bit when he levels me with that look. His hand lifts to the gap in my shirt where it rode up as if to pull me in but pauses when he feels the bare skin. His finger traces dried blood and cum on my belly almost reverently. The freak must love that. He ruined the moment, of course, fixing an almost uncomfortable smirk on his face.

"Give me half the chance, and I'm gonna fuck your pussy so hard you'll bleed."

Asshat. Out of the corner of my eye, I see flashes and what looks like a person. Head whipping I tense up. If I get interrupted, I might tear them apart. I'm so into the thought of slowly skinning my intruder while Lucas yanks out their teeth, I didn't notice the look on his face. If I did, I would have been a lot more worried.


	9. Rosy Days

Rosey Days

Kink

Of course, my promise to myself went haywire when I realized he actually LIKES giving oral. Never have I had the experience of getting off more than once on someone's mouth. Hell, I've never had anyone so enthusiastic before. It makes my own blowjobs more and more elaborate. I tell myself it's a thank you, but honestly, I'm feeding off of his personal kink, upping my game and finding a new joy for having a hot and heavy cock in my mouth.

He said something about it tasting way better that anything he's eaten recently when I bothered to ask, but I was too tired to pay attention. I'll just appreciate the fact he doesn't treat it like a chore despite the legit sexual torture he gives me. I'm not sure he knows how the female orgasm works, continuous and building, but I think he's figured it out by now from how much I squirm and cry. Sadistic fucker gets his form of pleasure seeing me like that.

He seems to take body worship to another level too, hands constantly roaming over new curves he could explore. I think he likes how different it is to his own. He's hard planes and sharp bones. I'm soft and curvaceous with my own hints of muscle that, as he makes me work more in the workshop, he's gained an appreciation for it. After a little debate about the attraction of muscles on girls, he's beginning to see it more my way.

I don't think he's ever thought about his preferences. Because I stand by the thought of him being a virgin. I don't think he's seen or was sexually into a body in real life. Stretch marks, dimples, muscle, fat, uneven skin tone, and hair. It's a new thing he's discovering every time he explores my body. It's all something people get to grips with when they have sex after only watching porn for so long but I still kind of feel like I disappointed him by my lack of professional porno grade body.

Not like I'm gonna ask him, I don't need him thinking I care. And I do. It disgusts me that I do. Endorphins are released every time we get off, and that's what helps lead to the chemical cocktail of love. It's what's softening me to him, I'm sure of it, no matter how much I try and reject the notion. After he got over that, he started to leave bite marks, peppering my thighs for some reason. Power. Possession. All hot things in bed but sometimes they bleed. I'll have to teach him how to make a hicky if he keeps doing this shit. I can barely walk without pain.

Lucas and I never cross the line to sex, content with practicing oral. Sure he'd get antsy and maybe try to put it in but my muscle reaction to punch him cut that shit right off. Unfortunately, it digressed to a fight where I learned of another nasty kink with smacking, and I called it off for the night. Like the cum play, I don't mention it, but he seems to know it anyway. For a guy, I assume to be a virgin he sure knows how to read me. Or maybe I'm just making it way too obvious. If it doesn't bruise let's just say I'm getting knocked around a lot more than I thought I'd like.

The memories of the first week here fade into the constant static in the back of my mind. It's almost like I've always been here. I can remember names, Cathy and Asha, but events and emotions leading to these moments here began to decay. Everything seems to go that way now including my mind. Sometimes I'll be doing something, and a spark in my brain will lead me away without recollection. Once I woke up surrounded by dead crows and black blood. Lucas found me fetal and shaking in the mud unable to move. He explained the mold to me. The infection Eveline passed onto these good people. How it's slowly spreading to my brain and spinal system. Slowly killing me while making me immortal. I wish it would just hurry up despite the fact that I'm scared of what's happening to me.

Lady Like

I miss a lot of things these past months of staying at Hostel Baker. Constant control over myself for example. I really miss not blacking out and being covered in someone else's blood and cum when I come to. That… is still disturbing and I don't let Lucas talk about it after I affirm that we didn't actually fuck. I feel like he's lying to a point but I shutdown my panic.

I miss material things. Like makeup. God, I miss makeup. Winged eyeliner and bright lipstick. I miss leggings and coffee. I miss fruit. Fresh air. My phone. I even miss being able to pop a squat without worrying about something big, black, and most certainly not a good dick trying to get up my ass from the monster infested septic tank. I hate to remember the day I learned that little trick of theirs. Most of all I think I miss my privacy.

"Gawddamn it, Lucas! Get out!"

Lo and behold, just as I sit on one of those toilets uneasily after scrubbing away as much mold as I could, Lucas comes barging in with a buzz-razor and a five o'clock shadow verging on an undignified ten o'clock.

"Shudup woman and let me shave."

I gaped at him trying to hold in my decidedly unladylike bowel function. Now, I'm not a priss. Never have been. But there are lines one doesn't cross and that's being in the room while a woman takes a dump. As he starts buzzing away at the scruff that's made its way down his neck, I try to close my eyes and pretend he's not here.

He's not. Totally not. Juuuust relax. Nooope. I throw a soda can from the waste bin at his head, because of course, he drinks soda while taking a shit, and he throws it right back. Prick. I do my business as quickly as possible, and he thankfully doesn't mention it, still carefully buzzing at his face until it was groomed. I flush and hop off as quick as I can, trying to get to the sink to scrub my hands. He elbows me back and picks at the hair on his head, scowling.

"Just shave it all off. Better go bald now instead of holding off the inevitable."

He turns the scowl to me, and I shrug before edging in to wash my hands.

"You do it too."

Ex-fucking-scuse me? I crook a brow at him. He smiled deviously.

"You shave my head, I shave yours. You're always complaining about the heat anyway."

Well damn, he's right. I look in the mirror and try to decide if my head is normal enough for baldness. I'm about to tell him to go fuck himself when I remember how people would grab it to drag me around. I immediately nod and lean my head down.

"I want it all off."

There's, unfortunately, no fashion in survival, and I am fucking sick of it being people's go to for grabbing. He takes chunks off at a time. I watch the ashy blond curls get tossed in the garbage, and I kind of want to keep a lock of it.

"Ima miss grabbing this stuff, baby. Guess you'll just have to settle for a good smackin' for your filthy little kink."

My face burns and I stomp on his foot. He proves himself right and leaves a red imprint across my ass with a laugh.

Date Night

Holy shit. Is that... no, it has to be another mold induced hallucination, but it smells so real! Lucas drops the still steaming boxes of pizza with a shit eating grin and I consider blowing him then and there when I get another whiff of delicious greasy diabetes. Descending on them like a Specter of death, I tear into the first box of over cheesed pepperoni. I don't even care about the guy he literally just tossed off his shoulder when I get a mouthful. Well, I kinda do, but I'll try to help him later. I've been suffering longer damn it! It's orgasmic, and I lick the trails of grease off my arms and hands after almost inhaling my first slice.

"That one's yours. Got one them dessert pizzas too that we can share and cheese sticks."

Oh my god, this has to be a fever dream. Lucas leaves a wet kiss on my cheek when I finally slow down on my second slice, content to just savor it for now. Who knows when I'll get pizza again? He drags what looks like a portly middle-aged man down the hall to one of the holding cells. My shoulders relaxed. I have time to try and help him then.

"Get those pizzas upstairs sugar tits! I'm taking a break from work tonight and making it a date!"

Why does he insist on calling me that? I snort but toss the half eaten slice back into the box along with the rest of the glorious large pizza. Movies aren't that uncommon but sometimes his version of movie night includes his homemade snuff films. I should be more freaked out by that but I can't muster the energy. There's only so much horror you can take before your body begins to not only become numb but also reject it. I have reached that plateau.

I know I can't convince him to watch an animation first, but after a blow job or two, he usually dozes enough not to notice me popping in one of the random DVDs. Probably taken from cars and bags to add to his stash. I'm thinking Mulan tonight after The Human Centipede. He just got it a few days ago from one of those stereotypical couples camping out and necking in the woods.

Setting up the pizzas in his pad, I boot up one of the ancient TVs and grab the movie I know he'll want to see. The German horror film will probably be a bit of a disappointment. It was for me. I expected actual horror, not psychological fuckery. After all the hype and having to bypass the parental locks on Netflix because dad immediately banned it, I was ready to be terrified. It's weird how much you crave something when you can't have it. I pop it in and wait on the comfortable old couch.

Lucas stepped in a few minutes later with a soda in each hand. How does he survive on those? He tossed me one of the chilled cans and sat at the other end of the sofa while I pressed play. It's usual; I guess until he tosses his spindly legs up and into my space.

"Lucas, please."

I breathed through my nose in exasperation as the toe poking through a hole in his sock jabbed my side.

"What?"

"Can I get some room here?"

He snorted and settled deeper into the cushion. I tried then to just ignore him and watch the film. The girl on the screen had just stupidly torn out her IV when Lucas jabbed me again.

"What!"

He kicked me at my tone, so I just look at him. He opens his arms and waves me over. Confused, I scooch closer only to be pulled into his chest, arms squeezing me tightly as his legs straighten out.

"Needed more room."

He grunts in my ear and relaxes, but I'm tenser than an iron bar. The unholy surgery on screen was starting when I finally gave in and relaxed into the arms around me. We migrated a little, and I leaned on him, chest to back. It's kinda strange. He's cushioned by his thick hoodie, but it's more the situation that's freaking me out. Shouldn't I be running away screaming?

I'll figure it all out later.

Lazy Day

Lucas slammed the door open shocking me from my dozing. Today wasn't a good day, but neither was it bad. I just couldn't find it in myself to get up before noon, and since he had nothing for me to do, he left me to it. But now a couple of hours after he left me, he marched back in and immediately began tugging his muddy and grass stained hoodie and shirt off. Wonder what the hell caused that.

He lifts and separates my legs, but before I could yell, he just slumps between them, face in my boobs and hands digging into the arch of my back. They begin to wander over my body, and I allow it. This isn't the first or last time one of us has done this. It's grounding kind of. His fingers trace my hardening back and arm muscles with a hum of appreciation, flattening stomach still soft enough for him to press into. My thinning waist pinches before they wander to my hips and thighs, lingering over the stretch marks on my sides before smoothing over my still aching thigh muscles from the hard labor yesterday.

"Tell me I'm smart."

I snort and rub my hands over the back of his neck listening to him mumble against the skin of my breasts.

"Tell me I'm pretty."

He lifts up his head and deadpans me.

"Yer fucking gorgeous."

My quiet giggles are choked on like Marguerites cooking.

"Run that by me again?"

He looks over my head and grumbles before dropping back down and hooking my spread legs around his waist. This… is new. He must really want that compliment. It's not empty either way.

"You're the smartest person I know Lucas. It's scary most of the time, but it's fucking amazing how your mind works and puts stuff together. It's beautiful."

I bite my lip and lean my head back. I wish I could drag the last sentence back by its heels, but it was already in the open air; he grips tighter, and we leave the moment at that. I don't want to ruin my second of peace with trying to get out from under him or make it awkward like it's dangerously close to. So I fall back asleep, and when I wake up an hour later, he's gone.

New Health

Recently Lucas has been looking a little better. Healthier and less and less the walking dead. I thought it was just the mold talking as I notice his slightly fuller cheeks hollow and shift with the candle light. I guiltily watch his pink tongue sticking out from his now color-filled lips as he worked furiously on his newest schematics. With a start, I look a little closer at the way the shadow plays across his pale face.

Fuller and more colorful. His features are just as sharp, but from the looks of it, his face is less sunken. His eyes lost some of that high shine I remember from the first couple weeks, and his clothes may be hanging less from his frame. The change was so gradual I didn't even notice, but I walk up and suddenly grab his face between my hands. Yes, I can feel it. His skin isn't stretched so thin anymore, and his face has fewer dips.

"The fuck you want?"

I blurt out my question with all the tact of a toddler.

"Why the hell are you less of a zombie?"

His prominent brow quirks up at me, and he pushes me back.

"Yoga, getting up at dawn, drinking wine. Made love to a holy man."

Jesus, he's spending way too much time around me. I toss my hands in the air and stomp back to my corner where I was gladly watching a movie before I started appreciating the psycho. Mistakes were made obviously.

Hands

Lucas came in late after being gone for two whole days. I don't think he slept the entire time because he barely stripped before collapsing onto the bed, snoring a few minutes later. I poke his side and sigh. It's not like I was sleeping anyway, but all vestiges of sleep were gone when the door slammed open. Figuring I'll be essentially alone for a while, my hands start to creep down to finish the job I started. His snores pause for a second and I freeze. If he wakes up, it'll either be to tease me or torture me, and I'm not in the mood for either.

He continues to sleep soundly, and I drop my hand in frustration. He's still not out enough. Groaning I flip onto my stomach and try to find sleep myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a glint of something shiny. Looking closer, I see his hands covered in fresh blood, and I grunt in disgust. The bed is already filthy and bloody enough. Taking one of the many shirts littering the floor, I begin to wipe him clean.

His hands absolutely fascinate me. Large and wide and piano-fingered with boney knuckles. His almost square fingertips are a mess of crisscrossing cuts and burns from before Eveline. He has the thick calluses of a working man from all of his building and broken fingernails that he started to cut off after accidentally cutting me from the inside. I run my lips over the faint scar of finger regrowth from earlier this week. I don't know why he heals faster and cleaner. I am a mess of scars that are barely fading. The one on my side is still grotesque and pink.

Rubbing away the phantom pain, I toss the shirt to the side and finally lay back down, soothed to sleep by familiar soft snores.

Code

(I do not understand computers, please forgive me I beg of you)

Lucas was doing the usual of typing furiously on a severely outdated computer and screaming obscenities at the screen. Normal. I sigh and drop the rotten magazine I stole from Zoe's trailer. There weren't any of my pills there, not even a bottle, but I did grab a few books and tapes. Bitch won't miss it. Not as much as I miss not feeling like a goddamn ice pick is driving into the base of my skull now and then, the amount lessening every week I'm stuck here. Or maybe I'd like to not feel like an exhausted waste of flesh for once.

"Aww damnit!"

He tried to roughly massage the ache from his undoubtedly cramped hand, fingers popping audibly. Grumbling I snatch his hand back and more gently rub into the tendons and muscles.

"What are you even trying to do?"

He snorts and the hip he brushes with his free hand burns hot on contact.

"The damn computers coding became corrupted. Gotta rewrite the entire thing before it tries to infect the system."

"Damn. Gotta be fast?"

He rolls his eyes and tosses his head away like what I said was too dumb to comprehend.

"Obviously."

"Don't be an ass, Lucas. Let me help."

He raised his brow emphasizing the hollows of his socket in the blue light of his broken computer.

"You?"

I drop the hand and put mine on my hips.

"Yea me. Scooch out, I need room to type."

He tossed his hands up and rolled his chair back some, patting his skinny lap. I bite my lip to keep a smile in check and sit with a flourish.

"Tell me what to type."

I did not expect his mouth against my ear, blowing hot air over the side of my face. My entire body shivered, and he held my thighs in place with wide hands. When he began to mutter the code under his breath, I crack my knuckles and begin to type. His breathy whispers quickly became faster and faster, and my hand kept up. My fingers and wrists began to cramp terribly, and I don't know how much time has passed but he's leaning back now and reading code from a stained notepad so quickly I could barely understand the individuals. His free hand rubs my side, and his legs jump spastically. By the time I was done, I was hunched and sat in his lap crisscross style, eyes stinging from the lack of blinking.

"Jesus, Peach! Imma need tah use ya fer this more often."

He reboots it and lets out a crow of happiness when it blinks to life. Cramping hands clawed like dinosaurs. I swallow my giggles and pop my back. Now I'm not a doctor but from the dozen pops and the sickeningly wet snaps from my wrists might not be good. A laugh came out like a bray, and I hop off of his lap, digging into the flesh of my ass and shake the feeling back.

"Ok, so that's sorted. I'm going to bed, and you can repay me when you're done looking over the system."

Let it be said his checkup was stupidly quick and my reward was 3 orgasms deep before I passed out after a sloppy blowjob in the shower.

Collar

The day I realized I was not equal to Lucas should have been less of a shock. I was so lost in the haze of peace and rose scented moments that I didn't even notice. I guess it's the insanity of the time. I never really got a full taste of it unless he was putting on a show. It was blood chilling.

"Am I some kind of pet to you?"

He was patting me, showing me off to a couple of victims in his favorite game chamber. One of them already lost a couple of fingers, the deck not in his favor, when I had the guts to ask. He dresses me how he wants to, orders me around and never lets me out of sight. It should be a lot more concerning than it is. Lucas didn't take it seriously and wiggles his brows up at me.

"Woof."

It was, for obvious reasons, the wrong thing to say. I dumped a can of soda in Lucas's lap and ran off to hide out under the Tractor Of Death for a couple of hours, stifling sobs. He prowled around the workshop calling for me like a dog, whistling and clicking his tongue mockingly. This isn't how it's supposed to work. I fell asleep there and woke up in bed. For the first time in weeks, my skin crawled when I felt him make contact with mine. This isn't how it should be.

Wedding Bells

"This was supposed tah be mah dress."

Zoe stated it blandly as she fitted me into Marguerite's old wedding gown.

"I'm sorry."

I really am. I was finally cornered into a ceremony given no choice at the end of the summer. It's a simple thing that laces corset style in the back and has pearls on the tight sleeves, off white from sitting in a trunk for more than 20 years. The skirt puffs slightly, and I want to swish it around like a princess. It fit for the most part. It just needed tightening in the waist and room in the shoulders and arms. We just took the material from the inches we had to cut off the bottom.

"Where did you learn to do this?"

I winced as a damn it was stabbed into my hip, held there for a second, then released.

"Mama taught me how to make my prom dresses."

Zoe sighs as she releases the last pin and the dress holds.

"There. Ahm done."

"Zoe I-"

"Stop! Ah don' want tah hear it."

Anger snapped when she stomped away. It's not like I have any choice in this.

"I just wanted to ask. Did you save my pills for something or did you just crush them all up and snort them like a crack whore?"

Even I'm flabbergasted by my audacity. I was just so fucking sick of being treated like a villain for this, but my guilt weighed heavily. She didn't bother to answer just slammed the door shut leaving me in the pseudo dressing room. Flipping the simple veil over my face, I look up at the smashed stain glass of Mother Mary and pray for forgiveness. It's just fitting for a plantation like this to have an abandoned church. I didn't even know it existed, just considered it another servant or slave shack.

My feet are hardened and covered in calluses from being shoeless for so long. That doesn't protect me from the tiny shards of colored glass from cutting into me where Zoe made me stand still. Bloody footprints lead to the big double doors into the back of the church, fading as the slivers were pushed out and the cuts healed. I think there's a graveyard back there and I'm not sure how I feel about exchanging vows over the unmarked graves of slaves.

It's as ominous as I imagined except for the mass slave graves. I berate myself for that a bit. Those bodies were exhumed before I existed to the Smithsonian in hopes of a proper burial. Instead, stand the granite headstones of the Baker family lining the path to the makeshift altar. It's an arch slapped together with tarnished wooden lattices and the last flowers of the season. Slap a filter on it, and it'd be hipster Instagram gold. At the end, Lucas fidgets while his mother fixes up the tux I didn't think he even he knew he had. It's clean and fits, but it doesn't look like it's been worn once.

I almost giggle at the thought of him at the altar in his same ratty hoodie and pants before his mother dragged him off. The scenario would have probably ended in him missing a hand though. I look to the side where I can hear Jack yelling at Zoe and Mia to not ruin today. I look closer at the mysterious woman. I've heard her name and seen her at a distance when she tries to escape, but I've never actually met her. She's Eveline's first mother. I don't know if it's biological or not, but Eveline, who looks like the old woman she is now, grasps her hand like a lifeline. It's almost sweet.

When she turns her milky eyes to me so does everyone else. Starring. Judging. Marguerite squeals and starts pushing everyone around to their places and waves me forward. The Star Wars death march sounds in my mind, and it's enough to help me plaster a smile on and walk up to my husband to be who takes my limp hand and wraps it around his arm. Do what he says when he says. And maybe I'll live another day. Jack butchered the vows, but it ran the same vein of the traditional Christian ceremony. I'm pleasantly surprised, I expected a lot more bloodshed and innuendos.

"Do you, Peach Jones, take mah son as ya lawfully wedded husband?"

I swallow and whisper past the lump in my throat. I want to run far, far away from this moment. I just finished high school. I'm gonna be 19 soon. It's not real I tell myself. Not real.

"I do."

"And do you, Lucas Baker, take this girl as ya lawfully wedded wife."

"Till death do us part."

I gulp and peer at Marguerite at my side. I expected happiness. Instead, I see confusion and panic.

"Jack, what are ya-"

Jack raised his hand and both Lucas, and I flinch but before it could swing at his wife Eveline had her hand on her arm. She looked like the same child she should be, shallow pinched face frowning up at the woman that slowly relaxes and smiles. My veins freeze and tears rush up. I'm never getting out of here. I hide my tears and turn to Lucas's chest, devastation shaking my shoulders. I'm gonna die here. Eveline is never gonna let any of us go. Rubbing away my tears with the rough material of my veil, I lift it up to look Lucas in the face. His expression was blank and stiff, and he barely looked at me.

"Till death do us part."

It felt like a truth more than a vow. The kiss was cold and stiff and ended in a second.

"Come on Pa. We gotta get the food for these ladies."

Jack hollers and whoops over everyone else. I watch them go back inside to bring the food and didn't notice Eveline skip up to me until she tugged my dress.

"Do you love him?"

"No."

My tongue almost burns when the word passes my lips, and I can feel Eveline digging her mold painfully into the back of my brain. She giggled a bit and tugged me down to her level.

"Mommy told me to not lie. Did your mommy ever tell you?"

I cry out as the spores dug deeper and my right eye began to blur even more before she suddenly released me. I look over and see a platter laden Lucas starting over with the same blank look.

Titan

"'Get the fucking plans for the chopper, Peach. Oh, you know the ones with the fucking words chopper on it Peach. The hell do you mean that's every other name for my machines?! Get yer ass moving sugar tits!'"

I grumble the groan as I look through another random box of machine schematics. Stupid bastard doesn't remember it's his go to temp name for ANYTHING that involves sharp objects. Slamming it shut, I pick up one of the last ones that was surprisingly heavy. Grunting, I open it and dump it out on the floor.

Underneath the unorganized mess of schematics, I find something shocking. Something I thought I lost a while ago. My laptop. Its surface is dusty and gross, but it looks the same as I left it. Silly Japanese stickers and all. I dig deeper and find my tube of gold, red lipstick and a bedazzled hair clip I forgot about. There's nothing else, but I get a sneaking suspicion he might have hidden my clothes somewhere else. If it was a month ago or even a week ago I'd confront him. Probably yell too. But I just pick up the mess, search through the last box, and leave. I'm too tired for this.

He Loves Me; He Loves Me Not

It wasn't sudden or like a crack of thunder. It just happened slowly as days rolled into weeks and weeks began to blur in this slideshow of horror. I was zoning out completely while helping Lucas weld some metal pipes before I dropped one of the heavy sons of bitches right on my foot. I screamed and kicked it off to nurse the broken toe. I've had them before, and it's probably just a fracture because he finally gives in and brings me one of Jack's old pairs of working boots after the last time I stepped on a nail. His howling at my clumsiness and being a general asshole didn't snub my horrible discovery at all.

I had stopped trying to escape. I stopped looking for weapons in every corner. I ceased denying the little girl whispering in my ear how much I'm in love with this psycho because she's right. He was red faced and yelling about how much of an idiot I am before he ran out of steam when I just gaped and didn't scream back, leaving us both in heavy silence. I'm in love with Lucas Baker, and I'm not even 100% sure he can FEEL love.

The first laugh sounded like a bark, and soon enough I was howling like a retarded dog, tears streaming down my face as I sink to the rank floor. He stared at me, eyes bulging with a wild face still flush and forehead sweaty from the heat. He looked disgusting but, have mercy, and it got me hot anyways. I wanted to feel the straining cords of his neck with my tongue. I want him to be putty under my hands and eyes half mast for a change instead of wide and glossy. I want him to praise me for a job well done before he uses his unnatural strength to fuck me into the floor. God damn this man and what he's done to me. I try to think of a single moment we actually kissed. Not a peck on the lips or face for show but an actual kiss. For the life of me, I couldn't recall.

"Fucking kiss me."

His face twists sadistically as he looks me up and down.

"Don't know Peachy. You're not looking too fresh now, don't want to get snot everywhere."

I wipe my face before grabbing his belt loops and yanking him down to my level for a change. It was sloppy, tongues got where they probably shouldn't, teeth scraped together, lips were bruised. I fucking loved it. Can't tell where he started and I began, and I know, I freaking KNOW, how wrong that is. How terrible and abusive and fucked up this all is. But I can't stop.

"LUUUUCAS! THE FUCK ARE YAH BOY!"

Jack. With a groan, we separate but don't even bother adjusting ourselves to be presentable. They've been thinking we were fucking from the beginning anyways. He entered through the barn doors we left open to encourage airflow, holding his makeshift terror-saw.

"Boy get out here before ah cut yer girls cunt off. If it's that distracting ya don' need it."

Jack laughed like a hyena, and my spine tingled unpleasantly. Lucas growls and shoves me away, pointing at me to stay.

"Ah'll be back later."

I gulp and nod, rubbing my thighs together. I know what later is gonna entail and from the furious flush on his face, Lucas does too. When he disappears around the corner, I shoot up and run back upstairs to our room to take a quick shower. My heart thumps, and my body tingles remembering him pressed against me. I ignore the nagging voices in my head, the names Asha and Cathy, and mainly my conscious. I've been through so much, can't I drop my anger and grudge to just accept tonight without the overwhelming self-disgust after?

I'm so sick of feeling that. It leaves me hollow and gross, and I just want to be happy after months of being deprived of that. That makes it ok right? I rinse out my hair and step from the shower. Lucas isn't in the room when I get out, but I can hear the heavy bass of rock in the distance. Drying myself, I forego clothes and just stride out naked as can be. It's not like I'm not in the nude half the time anyways.

I find him in his observation room looking over muted footage that I don't look too closely at. When he saw me, he fumbled and switched the monitors to something as filthy but not near as stomach churning. Does it say something about me that I feel grateful that my husband switched to porn after being caught looking at something I hate to see? Well, not sure when that something is cameras set up to watch torture. His face couldn't be redder, and I feel guilty for laughing when his shoulders hunch up.

"Lucas. Lucas, look at me."

He was jittery and blushing without looking me in the eye. Holy fuck. With all his power moves and blantly sexual advances I never expected him to act like this in face of actually fucking a pussy. I feel calmer for it. I'm not the only one scared. Lightly touching his knee to stop the erratic bouncing I swivel his chair to face me. I'm in control now.

I lean down and softly press my lips against his fingers, tugging the short regrowth of hair at the nape of his neck. He yanks me closer, leaning back in his chair to give me room so I can straddle his lap. The kiss deepens and becomes rougher as his hands wrap around the back of my neck and the other squeezes my breast. They got perkier and firmer after going braless for so long, and some fat loss but they are still more than a handful. My nipple peaks against his hot palm and I whimper into his mouth while unzipping his hoodie. Turning my head from the sloppy kiss, I leave a peck on the corner of his mouth and lean back to help him undress.

"Ah didn't fuck you. When you would black out."

For the first time, I actually believed him. I drop the hoodie to the side and watch as he takes off his favorite blue muscle shirt. Moaning, I rock in his lap with every new inch revealed. Pressing fingers into the hint of ribs, I kiss a collar bone. He stiffens but doesn't push me off. This is for me. I lick up the column of his neck and kiss under his jaw. The romance dies a quick death when he pulls me up and sets me on his desk.

Smirking in ways that are more like himself, he leans down to start the familiar dance. He goes right for the clit, squeezing in two fingers to work over my G spot. He wants this done and done fast. I couldn't breathe properly as his teeth scraped gently against the raw bundle of nerves. I press my fingers not occupied with holding his head deeply into my womb. Shaking and cursing, I think my elbow knocks his keyboard onto the floor, but neither of us gives a damn. With a final scrape, I cum with a gush and a sigh that turns into an unholy scream when he bites into the flesh above my hip bone, opposite to the branded one.

"Fuck!"

His teeth dig deeper into my hip all the way to the gums. Bucking and kicking, I try to get away, but his superhuman strength keeps me in place with minimal damage to his setup. Releasing when I began to go limp, he smiled up at me with bloody teeth, fingers still working me over causing a whole mess of sensations and I sob. Jerking roughly against the spongy spot, he kisses up my stomach and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple. He stands back up, kicks his chair away, and slants his mouth against me before lining up and bottoming out on the first thrust. Squealing at the stretched pain and the aggravated wound, I push at his stomach. He didn't move, but he did stop kissing me so I could pant in his shoulder.

"Too deep. Too deep, Lucas!"

He grunts and for a second I think he won't care, but he backs up, and his thrusts become shallow and quick. Sighing, I lean against the monitors at my back still playing silent porn. My head smacks against the glass, and I feel the static rub against the short fuzz of my hair. Hand still at the back of his neck I drag him down to my level and bite his shoulder, grinding my teeth into the muscle. The metallic flavor of blood washes over my taste buds and down my working throat.

Eye for an eye I guess. He howls and pushes further, but I've already begun to stretch, so I take it like a champ. Just a few more inches and I can take it all. So close. So, so close. It's different, raw. I can feel every bump and vein, the pull of skin against skin. Condoms just don't give you the same sensation. Stomach tightening, I can feel my pussy tighten with it. He howls and bucks, and it almost stings as he drags his cock through overactive nerves.

Lucas growls in my neck and begins to thumb my clit with the hand not currently jammed into the open wound on my hip. Circling my hips, I brace my legs on the edge of the metal desk and help him, squeezing the remaining inches back inside. My teeth latch deeply. I could feel his healing trying to push them back out. He pushes my head back, ignoring the tugging of my deeply embedded teeth, and winds up to crack his hand across my cheek.

Pain blossoms over the entire side of my face. It hurts. Damn does it hurt, but it tingles down to my bones and zings across my skin. He takes the momentum and back hands my other cheek, and I moaned and bucked. I like the pleasure but more than anything I like the pain because I deserve it. I NEED it. It grounds me here and now and punishes me for wanting that.

"Fuck, fuck cumming!"

I buck and grind against his now long and jarring thrusts until I feel the long drawn out and almost disgustingly deep orgasm clench my entire abdomen.

"JESUS CHRIST, PEACH!"

He goes as deep as possible, and I feel him nudge my sore cervix. That might actually bruise. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I rear up and clash our mouths together violently. His cum burns my raw insides, and I feel it overflow and drip down the crest of my ass cheeks. Sagging in his grip, my legs fall back open and dangle over the edge. My body ached deeply from the bruising inside and out. My hips, my waist, and my cervix. My bite was the worst, the sharp pain feeling bone deep.

"You freaking cannibal."

Lucas wheezes and laughs into my shoulder before tapping his own bite.

"I'd say this is officially a welcome to the family."

I gag at the thought, remembering that horrific night he explained just what went on the dinner table. He began to back up, and I almost drew him back just to keep him and his spunk inside. A long drawn out whine comes from both of us as he drags himself back out over my raw and swollen insides. The desk was a mess, and we smelled sharply of sex, but the thought of cleaning up just made me more tired. He helps me up the stairs to the room and pulls me down to the mattress where we passed out for the remainder of the day.

When I woke up the next day it was as another person. The mold has won and my resistance is nonexistent. I like to think Lucas is sad when he realizes this.


	10. Cost Of Obedience

Cost Of Obedience

I can feel it in the weight of my shoulders, the fuzzies in my skull skittering around like rats. Lucas has run me ragged, and a little bit broke and beaten. Voices scream in my head. They sound a lot less like me and more like monsters every day. Eveline. That little monster, tore me away from myself day by day.

Every now and then I could feel a flash of wakefulness and horror before it was washed under a veil of black. Obedience to Lucas was never questioning and always touching him. I whimper when he touches me less and less, eyes disinterested. Am I wrong now? Tainted? But I love him. Both voices in my head echo this. One angry and confused the other crying uncontrollably.

So I tried to please him other ways. Sexually, mentally, and with my competence at building and playing with his toys. He had me hunting them across the woods. Chasing them down as I channel my past track star and pounce like an animal. He never let me finish the job. Never let me bite down on their jugular as I was poised to do. Sometimes I leave without a fight. Sometimes he has to drag me away kicking and screaming only to be shoved into one of his locked cells to calm down - or annoy him with my screams and sobbing enough that he releases the latch.

Today he has me keeping watch over an older black couple that escaped. I watch along with him on the monitors. I barely notice that I'm walking around like an animal, on my hands and toes, crouched at his feet. A pet indeed. He side-eyes me and kicks me away, but I just come back for more abuse. When I try to crawl into his lap as I would usually, he tossed me off and stomped on my arm. I try to not scream when I feel the snaps because he always gets worried when I cry.

Smiling a watery smile, I cradle my arm to my chest. It's nothing. I've gotten worse when Lucas would put me in the Pit with one of his toys. He always gave them a weapon, said it was to train me. For what I don't know. I carefully set the bones to heal right and pitifully crawl to his side leaning my head into his thigh. He doesn't push me away this time. He curses and bounces his legs erratically before just sighing and tugging my hair. It's long enough for short tugs now but not long enough to grip.

"I need ya to go hunting for me."

My smile feels too wide for my face. Lucas will be so happy when I get them for him, he might let me sleep in the bed tonight instead of just kicking me onto the floor. I don't understand why he does that. He's fine with having sex during the day but not in bed. It's rough and painful, and it makes me bleed sometimes, but I love it. I don't really like it when he starts to cry in my neck, though, and after that he wouldn't touch me for days. After the first few times I tried something he literally kicked me off, snapping my tailbone when I collided with the wall. He said sorry, though. He said sorry.

Crawling out like a beast I begin to run into the foliage where camera 32 is. There! The man is hiding, holding one of the many bats scattered around like a sword swinging at every noise. He's met Eveline's friends then. Tongue slipping over my teeth I creep closer. Nothing could have prepared me getting hit in the stomach as I stand up, the man's face smiling in victory as I drop and he begins to beat into my stomach and chest. Gasping as one of my organs ruptured I scream and cry like a bitch with undertones of rhythmic grunting.

It's soon met with the familiar hissing snarls of alligators chomping and snapping over to us. They creep, and the man stops in fear, edging away. With the reprieve, I force myself up and stumble to him. When I get closer, his eyes widen hilariously, and he swings at my head. I stop it with my still broken arm, the barely healed fractures re-breaking. With a guttural howl, I lunge and take the tall man down, teeth buried into his neck before I rear back, taking his jugular with me. I drop with him and turn to go look for the woman. The alligators can have him, he's useless now.

All it took was a shine. The glitter of a grimy little puddle by my side. I looked in and almost screamed in fear. Veins and capillaries filled with brackish blood staining my face in a grayish cast, and it might be a trick of the soft moonlight, but the whites of my eyes look yellow. My face is framed with reptile frills and boney spines, flared in shock like those weird exotic lizards. My gaping mouth turns in just a way I can see the forked tongue and slavering fangs too big for my mouth. Raised imprints of scales dot my skin like the faded freckles. Raising my hand, I see it shake in the water when I see the thick claws in place of nails. Gasps turn to hyperventilation, body shivering turns to painful convulsing as I slowly begin to change back to normal.

As I come to piece by piece my abnormalities sink into my skin, deep aching pain from the breaking and absorbing bones. My jaw cracks and breaks with every tooth I spit out as it grows back slowly. I feel like a teething toddler. My fingers bleed as claws begin to fall out and normal nails begin to grow rapidly in place. How had I never noticed?! I look around frantically and see the alligators I almost forgot about approaching the gurgling man.

"No!"

I rush at them waving my hands.

"Go! GET THE FUCK AWAY!"

I thought my heart stopped beating when they gave out rhythmic grunts and growls, but they turn tail and skulk back to the swamp. Gasping through the fear and locking quivering knees I stumble to the man and turn him onto his back. My heart sinks, and I know he's beyond help. Flaps of his throat dangles in shreds, and air escapes the bloody maw with a whistle. Hands flapping uselessly around his face, I sob.

"Oh god. Oh god, oh god please forgive me! I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry!"

His lips worked around silent words, and then he slumps into the bloody mud. I want to clean him up. I want to bury him properly. He was a tall and large man with skin a rich brown, and I felt a tug in my heart. He looks just like my father from the back. He even had his hair, short and peppered. Screaming I turn to the side and begin to vomit. Wiping my mouth, I reach for the stranger with a trembling hand, my mind and memories merging and separating at random.

"Dad? Daddy, wake up!"

One second I was a little girl trying to get her daddy awake to chase away my nightmares and a woman trying to undo the vile things she's done. I'm knocked from my memories by a blooming pain in my temple. Crying in pain, I fall to the side. The warm blood dribbled down the side of my face into my cleavage. It looks dark as night. The woman huffed and cried behind me holding the shotgun like a bat. It must be theirs, most of the guns are hidden by Jack or destroyed.

"You fucking cunt. You fucking bitch! You killed my husband!"

Biting my lip, I turn to face her.

"Yes. I did. There's something wrong with everyone that's here, and you need to get out. I can't control it none of us can."

She cocks the gun and aims, ignoring my sobs. She jerks it up a few times, and I get the memo. I stand and back away from the body.

"Stop! Please, I can help you!"

"Fuck you, you monster."

The woman was determined to live, I'll give her that. I was able to tilt my head and shove the barrel but not in time.

Bang!

My head whipped to the side violently. I gurgle unable to scream. Falling to my knees I feel for my face, pain, all-encompassing agony, raced up and down my spine. What little of my face that's left is on fire from the lack of mandible and throat. Hot buckshot peppered my chest the gore of my face, twinges of pain adding to the fire. The woman curses but reloads and aims for my temple. No hesitation. No mercy. She's putting me down like a rabid dog. I feel a sick sense of joy when an aluminum bat connects with the side of her head caving it in instantaneously. I drop to all fours and gurgle again trembling hands trying to pick up the shreds of mandible under them. I think I found the left side, a half complete jaw and cheek. I would have gagged if I could. My head is carefully tugged up by a hand in my hair, and I blink away the blurry shadows.

"FUCK!"

It's Lucas. He must have seen this on the cameras and came for me. My heart did a little jump, but that might be the shock. I can't breathe. How hasn't my heart stopped beating? Half of my neck is lying in front of my face, doesn't that kill people? I certainly want to be dead. He drops my head and bile comes up through my ruined pipes aggravating the wound and sliding into my just-as-fucked windpipe. My choking couldn't even be any more than gasping moans with wet flapping.

Collapsing on my side, I roll over and try to concentrate on something other than the blood pooling in the back of what's left of my throat and the pain of a missing face and slow drowning. This is where I die I guess. At least the view is nice. Half moon shining clearly through the diseased trees painting the leaves silver so you can't tell. I miss the sight of pines and mountains, but it'll have to do. Lucas is scurrying around the clearing frantically gathering up pieces as he goes. I look up at the man spitting curses like a cobra frantically trying to fix my jaw. This is the first time he's touched me intimately in so long that tears spring to my eyes. I try to reach for him before the black blankets me, but it's too late.

She's not healing. She's not fucking healing! After gathering as many jaw pieces as he could, he tossed the woman on his shoulder and raced back to the barn. Her body was still warm and heart still struggling to beat, but the lack of jugular might complicate that. He'd always known her body didn't take the mold as well as everyone else. She's weaker, slower, can't heal as fast. It's why he pits her against the assholes in the arena after that time his father went after her and took her legs. Forced her to crawl like that for a day but she doesn't even remember that.

Recently her body has been trying to purge itself by destroying infected cells. ALL of her cells are infected and replaced as soon as it happens, but that doesn't mean it doesn't affect her. It's making her sick as her organs systematically shut down and restart only to do it all over again. Tossing her onto the now junkyard-destined bed, he tries to jigsaw what he has with a mason jar full of whatever medical miracle Eveline spits up. Not like it can infect her anymore that it already has.

Her heart is barely beating, and it's been almost 20 minutes now. The half complete jaw and neck is barely stuck, and the regeneration hasn't started at all. Eveline, or whatever she wants them to see as her, skipped up behind Lucas who sat at the edge of the and scooped blood out of the back of the raw cavity in place of her throat. She already drowned once before he realized that he had to turn her jaw away before starting her heart.

"She'll probably die. Give her to me, I'll make her better."

A snarl twists his face grotesquely.

"An' turn her into one of yer friends. No Eveline. You gave her tah me so she's mine and I'm not letting her leave me again."

She giggles and gets into his face, monstrous features bulging.

"You love her too."

She disappeared without a trace, and he heaved in disgust. He always hated talking to that little bitch, but she has a weird fascination with Peach. It's getting out of hand. By now, she's been making her get up in the middle of the night to go with her somewhere. Peach never remembers in the morning, no surprise there, it's getting harder and harder to get her to remember more that direct orders, but Eveline always looks at her in cow-eyed worship. He's even thought about locking her up in one of the cells at night, but the annoying screams and cries kept him up at all hours. Might be remembering what happened last time she was locked in one of those. Might be separation anxiety like with pets. He hates letting her go with that little cunt so fucking much, but it'll keep her alive.

It was almost an hour later that a new face began to build, bridging the already present flesh and bone with almost hairline scars. If it took that long for Peach's body to accept the mold spores then she might be in more of a danger zone than he realized. The scars will be gone in a few weeks probably. It's the other side he's worried about. The meat of her face bubbles and writhes in the effort it takes to regenerate, black blood seeping and helping the process. In the corner of her jaw, under her half gone ear, gnarled scar tissue begins to grow a whitish pink. She'll have it for the rest of her life. Just like the one on her stomach or the ones encircled around her thighs from the recent dismemberment. It'll fade and recolor with time, but a scar is a scar. Knowing she'll live through the night, Lucas shuffles around and boots up an old laptop onto the makeshift desk in the corner.

Cracking his knuckles, Lucas looks back at the woman sprawled on the bed, doubt almost making him slam close the booting-up laptop. But no. He can't. It's not a thought of if he can trust her anymore, the woman is enamored even under all that mold. No, it's more of a question of if he should. The bright light of the computer washes over her. Her face is slack and smiling through the blood, and by gawd, his heart just about skipped. That decides it then. Besides, he thinks, I doubt I could get as close to another woman evah again.

Logging into his email, he reads this week's demands of observations and shoots of a message to the big man himself.

"Hey, Biggy Man. Ima need some supplies before this week's report. Enough serum for a young woman 3 1/2 months molded."

He taps his fingers erratically and jumps his leg like a piston waiting for the response. He always responds within the hour. 10 minutes later his inbox pings to life.

"I will need measurements and age, but I think I can pull some strings. May I ask why?"

He almost sighed in relief. He was almost worried they couldn't do it, but they haven't let him down yet. Money, sophisticated electronics, and now more serum. It's gonna be one hell of a kick in the teeth when he breaks from them too.

"Good. Get it done or no report. The wife and I need a clean break from Eveline, so I'm gettin her lucid."


	11. Freedom In The Strangest Ways

Freedom In The Strangest Ways

I woke up in pain and covered in filth more clear headed than I can remember. I can feel it. The mold permeating my very being tearing into me. It's influence is gone right now but I still feel the fog of subservience. Lucas is nowhere to be seen and when I croaked for him my face could barely work out the words.

Grimacing at the sore feeling of overworked muscles I try to feel for what's wrong and I'm met with thick ropes of scars. Whimpering at the bone deep ache that resonates through my jaw and under my teeth I remember last night. It was horrific. I thought I was dead. I should be dead! Gasping I feel my face and look at my hands. Normal but I could feel the ghost of bumps on the edge of my face. A fucking lizard. I was a fucking reptile. Hysterical giggles rumble through my numb mouth and I feel the strange grate against my vocal cords. I might have grown more, the noise I made last night was inhuman. I can't even contemplate the impossibility of that, I grew frills and claws, I no longer have the right to say what's impossible. It's almost like Marguerites bugs but it seems Eveline is getting more imaginative with her gifts. Wonderful.

Huffing at the effort I sit up and feel my stomach. The bruising is gone and the whispers of aches are almost nonexistent. My arm was healed wrong but I could just re break it later. Stumbling to the open bathroom I turn on the flickering lights and stare into the mirror at the unfamiliar person standing there.

Ashy blond curls shorn close. Crooked eyes still hazel. Freckles still in place. But I'm pale now with a grey cast over my light brown skin looking ashy. Bags under my eyes are pronounced and a greenish black and my lips are a chalky chapped look. I look dead and that's ignoring the blast scar that spider webs from under my ear to the corner of my lips and right under my eye. It fades more as a hairline further up but the bottom half is gnarled and white. Face twisting into scowl I watch in fascination how my skin tightens and sags in such an unfamiliar way. I'm fucking hideous. Rubbing away the tears with quick angry swipes I turn from the mirror. No need to look anymore.

The hours ticked by slowly. I don't know why I don't just leave the room but every time I try for the handle I start screaming and crying. I started pacing and my pacing turned to crawling. The frills came back shaking and flaring in fear and impatience. I force back the rest of the transformation and curl into a ball in the corner of the room face buried in one of Lucas's shirts. Maybe he's mad at me. Both of his toys are dead now all because of me. Maybe he'll leave me here before he gets rid of me. Stifling my sobs I begin to rock and hum away the voices that scrambled to remind me how much of a failure I am. How I'm replaceable and he's getting a new pet right now. How he doesn't love me at all. When the door opened I was a slavering and crying beast, frills full out and claws digging into my arm. Lucas cursed softly and tore my nails from my skin.

"Luc?"

He's stone faced but gives me a small smile when I look up and I feel the bones sink back into my skin only to flare to attention when he grabbed the back of my head and forced it down. Hissing and snarling I begin to growl when I saw a giant needle in his other hand.

"Hold the fuck still Peach. Hold still!"

I stop struggling despite my trembling muscles trying to move and start whining like a kicked dog. He slowly positioned the needle at the base of my skull and tilted it in a way it probably entered my brain. Screaming and screaming I see white but still don't struggle. The syringe is empty when he releases me and I drop to the floor. My limbs twitch but I can't move. My body is not under my command as it twitches and shivers. Oh god what did he do to me?!

"Luc! Lucas it hurts!"

I sob and he places a hand over my ear holding my head still from the seizures. Fire slowly threaded into the grey matter of my brain burning through my mind and memory. He held me down as I cried and struggled. I could feel the bones of my frills quiver and shake in panic and I couldn't stop my claws from lengthening and tearing into the soft wood of the floor.

After what felt like a lifetime my brain cooled and it felt almost like drinking cold water after chewing mint gum only inside my skull. I was surprised when I finally breathed out and there weren't flurries blowing out. As the heat was replaced so was the fog and I finally became myself. He helps me sit up and stand on shaking legs.

"Push them back in. Now, or I break them off again."

I blink and my scrambled brain obeys him forcing the abnormalities back in wincing at the breaking bones. It should be more painful but I think I've felt way worse recently. I sway and blink away the fog in my mind slowly. Fury engulfs me when I sink into awareness, voices fading away. At Lucas of course. But mostly at myself and my own weakness. I half wished everything would be a blur but no. I remember every second I was under.

Every time I chased down a victim, every life I took, every order I responded to unquestionably. Every rejection of affection from Lucas, every beg I had for him to just look at me. My own self disgust in my actions but also because I was so unworthy for him once I was tainted, that fuck. I'm even ashamed of the love I feel still pounding in my chest along with combination of the obsession. It's so strong I almost fell to my knees and sobbed. But I won't give him the satisfaction. Instead I decide to be angry. I'm clear headed now but I can still feel a pull of darkness in the back of my mind that I can easily ignore. I just hope it's not permanent.

"Welcome to immortality Peach."

What the what?

"You fucking douche."

His face relaxes into a wide smile. I pass over his face and notice despite his even more fuller and healthier face the circles under his eyes are almost black.

"Fuck sugar tits I missed ya."

I sock him under the jaw suddenly and feel the painful zings of crooked bones in my forearm. Right. Need to re break that.

"That's for my arm you cock sucker."

I force his head over my knee jabbing it into his eye socket and nose. Probably bit off some of his tongue too from his spat of blood. I learned that move in his barbaric arena where me made me fight like a gladiator.

"That's for everything else because I can't even count all the shit you did to me."

I spit at his fallen form as he tries to stifle the blood from his nose and mouth. I see the meaty tip of his tongue on the floor and look away. I can't feel bad for this. He didn't feel bad for me. That doesn't stop the heart stopping ache in my chest when he moans in pain. I expected him to come for me but he just adjusted his broken nose and smiled up at me with bloody teeth.

"Damn Peachy."

I start stomping to the door, my reaction from earlier gone, when he grips my wrong arm and got in my face. I look into his bloodshot eyes and I almost convinced myself that he looked scared.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

I look at him like he's fucking insane.

"I'm leaving. Thank you, for whatever you just did, but I'm not staying here a second longer. I should have left when I could in the beginning."

I expected him to let go. I expected him to shrug and wish me luck with a giggle. As always he defies expectations. He got into my face and I could smell blood on his breath. Distantly I notice it's bright red.

"You ain't leaving."

He crushed my arm and I tore it out with a scream. My cooling anger ignites and I push him back.

"What makes you think I'll stay? Now that I'm cured I can leave and nothing can stop me!"

Something that looked like panic flared on his face but it was gone in a second.

"No you won't. You wouldn't last a day without crawling back to me. You CAN'T live without me."

He stomps out of the room then leaving me shell shocked. I know how to survive just fucking fine. So I ignore the double meaning of the words and stomp out too. I'm not worried about covering up my sudden freedom right now, I'm so angry no one would suspect I'm not under Evies thumb anymore. I stumble when I get to the door leading outside. Despite my anger I'm scared. What will they do if they suspect?

I turn on my heel and go to his open workshop, sweeping a hard wood table clear and hop up on it so I don't fall when I do this. Biting my shirt I take hold my arm and break it in the crook in my forearm. Screaming and cursing I set it carefully and wrap it in the now torn up shirt before laying down and curling up on the hard surface, cold and feeling more than alone. Despite just waking up whatever he did to me wiped me out and I fell asleep within minutes.

When I woke up a some time later Lucas is no where to be seen but I can almost feel him watching me. Jumping to my feet I slip on the shirt and continue walking bare feet scraped against the concrete. For probably days it goes like this, hiding in the dark unused corners and rooms of this labyrinthine barn and working up the guts to go outside. He hasn't tried to find me yet but that doesn't guarantee my safety once I get out.

Steeling my nerves I slowly open the door blinking against the bright sun light. It's colder outside. Maybe my birthday already passed. I'm not sure, the passage of time is swift and confusing here. Turning my head I spit the rotten flavor of memories away and run down the porch. I actually thought I could get out when I climbed the half finished defense around the barn. It's really new he must have installed the locks and barbed wire in the time I was inside. When I was caught it wasn't by one of the horror family but by a man, pale and greying who came in with the couple, who laid in wait for Lucas probably. He sticks a gun to the back of my head and hisses in my ear.

"I've seen you monster. You're coming with me."

The gun cocks forcing me forward. The man dragged along the fence, gun to my head. I know he said immortal but I've never healed as fast or been as strong as the others. I don't know if I could survive a point blank shot to my skull without intervention from the mold in my brain. Then again I might. I regrew limbs and half my fucking face. Better not to tempt fate though.

"Where are they?"

"I don't-"

He pistol whipped me in the temple and dragged me further. Lucas must be out of the barn or maybe this guy destroyed the cameras in this area because no help came when I cried out.

"Where the hell are Harvey and Laura!?"

I swallow and tear away from his arm just as a bullet is shot. It barely misses my head and my fist collided with his stomach with all the force of a bull. He drops to his knees and I feel the edges of my face stretch.

"Dead. Ok they're fucking dead. I tried to help them but this scar on my face tells me you're just as bad."

I scowl at his simpering. I hate this. I hate myself. But it feels good to have someone at their knees begging for their lives. I turn away and go to leave but another bullet cracked through the air. His trembling aim only made a flesh wound on my leg but it still hurt. Goes to show ya, spare someone or try to help them and they'll spit on your grave. I turn quickly and break the hand holding the gun. I consider dropping it and killing him with my own two hands but instead I cock it and blow his brains out. Too personal with my hands. I wanted to feel something. Anything. But I don't know this man. He was a stranger that attacked me in my own terf and expected it to go well. I guess I am a monster. I drop the gun and look around for some kind of sign of what to do now. Leaning against the house is a shattered floor length mirror covered in stickers. Probably Zoe's.

I marched up to the mirror and look closely. I look at the wild eyed thing in the reflection. I'm already so different looking mere days after taking the serum. I actually observe who or what I am. I'm hunched over. Defeated. Straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders into the now unfamiliar pose I shift my legs and feet. Stay on the balls or you get caught.

Taking steps back I look at what I can of my body in the broken mirror with a cocked head. I've lost weight. But what I've lost I've gained in muscle from long hours working in the shop and all the times Lucas had me playing gladiator. I might not have abs or any less body rolls but my arms are heavy with muscle and my legs strong and stomach flat with a smaller waist.

I look closer at the more familiar planes of my face the loosening of skin fixed by a few days sleep. In the sunlight I can clearly see my honey skin tones and kinky hair. Grinning savagely I notice my smile is blood speckled and kind of stretched from the new scar. It's like a smack in the face and I stagger. I don't belong to the outside world anymore. I'm too twisted and wrong and I will probably die here. The revelation is a lot less painful than I thought it would be, more peaceful than anything washed over me as the first time since I got here I knew what to do. This dynamic between Lucas and I can not last. It'll be the spiritual death of me and I can't find it in myself to be like this anymore.

Turning before my confidence could be proven as false bravado I stomp to the barn ignoring the moaning monsters surrounding me. With every step I am reminded why I must do this. With every angry huff I give in a little more to my place in this fucked up family. I am Lucas's mother fucking wife and I may or may not be crazy just thinking that. It doesn't take long to find him. I may have been avoiding this but he wasn't. He was tinkering with some new tool on the upper story of the main barn, speakers silent for once. I see him side eye me and stiffen.

"Ah see ya stopped poutin'. I'll deal with ya later, I'm busy."

"No!"

It came as a bark, loud and achy. I'm done. So gawddamn done with this.

"I am not your pet. I am not your whore. I am not your slave. I'm your fucking wife and I AM your equal. You better as fuck start treating me like it."

He stilled. The air stilled. Hell a fly probably couldn't move through this air. Fast as a snake he rounds on me lifting me up by the shoulders. His face isn't thunderous though. It's frantic. Wide eyed and with a dangerous current of elation. Likes he's been waiting for this for months. Knowing how I was he probably has been.

"You wanna be my equal?! Then you fight for it!"

He tossed me over the railing onto the workshops floor. Gasping as my clavicle snapped and my rib cage fractured I wait for them to begin to heal before even moving. By then his plan is in action.

"!"

A rumble like a quake and a roar like a diesel engine heralded in one of the biggest, fattest, and smelliest monsters I've ever seen.

"This boy's name is Jacob and let's just say he was a big boy. Kill him and I'll think about putting us on more equal ground."

Gutter rock blasted from the speakers pumping my heart and my adrenaline. I pick up the machete he tossed down and ignored him leaning on the rail watching me fight to the death. If he wanted a slave he made a mistake giving me immortality. Smirking at the lumbering bastard I sidestep a puddle of already eroding acid. He was fast but I'm faster. Hissing from high in my throat I dodge the lumbering thing and swipe at its back. It clips my shoulder and forces me back a pace. Cracking my neck I sweep low and slice into where its knees would be. It only hit my leg once before I got him down exploding in a shower of pus filled guts, mold, and bone shards. Blood on my lips I snarled up at Lucas.

"Come on then! I know you have more of those assholes!"

He smiled like it was Christmas Day and scrambled to the control center before slapping down a hand. A door opened absolutely soaked in the slimy mold. Some kind of gas pumps in and they begin multiplying quickly. Must be Eveline's non human mold monsters. An army replaced the fatty and I feel a twinge of regret before I dive in. Rock pumped my lungs in a primal bass. Acid flowed through my veins burning every capillary and nerve ending until I could only feel the tingle.

My muscles stretched and flowed as I dodged and bluntly sliced up these generic mold monsters. There goes an arm. A head. A leg. On and on until the last wave died and I barely stood legs far apart and falling inward huffing and puffing with my right arm hanging on by a flap of skin and tendon. But I lift the blade in my left as he calmly walks down onto my level. I jerk back at the thought. He never follows me down alway forcing me around even injured. Slow clapping resounds off the walls and he walked to me just as slow. He looked at my arm and pulled a capped syringe from his hooky pocket.

"Past time for your next injection anyways."

We don't talk as he patches me up. I don't ask why he doesn't just use the jars of liquid gold scattered everywhere. After some minutes I rotate my reattached arm and smirk up at him. He smiles back and leads me to our more secluded bedroom where he lets go and hunts around for clean clothes before shoving me into the shower. I step out 10 minutes later feeling more refreshed than I have since forever. The mattress has finally been replaced, I noticed, bedding and sheets actually covering what looks like a queen or full sized that, being too big for the frame, simply lied on the floor.

"How long have I been here?"

"Almost 4 months now."

No crying. I can't cry now.

"So what now?"

I cross my arms and lean on the door frame still skittish in getting any closer.

"Whatcha mean?"

"What did you put in me Lucas? Where did it come from?"

He sighs and flops on the bed. I'm about to give up when he rubs his face with his hands and tilted his head to me.

"It's a cure more or less. I took it a month before you got here."

I stagger and felt my face pale and flush at the same time. There's a cure.

"What about my..."

I fiddle with my nails and he knows.

"Don' know. Probably keep it since it doesn't get rid of the healing."

He shrugged and my heart sank. I'm still a fucking freak. He held out his hand and I took it allowing him to tug me into the bed.

"I guess it's better than nothing. I'm cured anyways."

I feel his hand awkwardly pet my hair and I bite my lip against the inappropriate laughter.

"Wouldn't matter anyways. You gotta take this shit for weeks until it's all gone so it doesn't destroy your cells. I woulda just tracked you down."

Wait what?!

"And you didn't think to tell me that?!"

The fucker had the decency to look slightly ashamed but it was gone in a blink.

"If I told you you woulda taken the case and ran."

I shake my head but don't deny it. I probably would have.

"Just another couple months baby then we can start plannin to leave."

"Seriously? You won't leave me?"

I feel and sound small and for the life of me I can't shake it.

"No shit. Who else is dumb enough to help in mah tests?"

I sock him in the arm but he just takes it with a laugh. This is better. More normal. I have a ways to gaining his total respect and status as an equal. But with a smile I fall asleep knowing I started the way into proving myself to this crazy asshole petting my hair. I don't care about the psychological implications anymore because he's right. I can't live without him anymore and to ensure survival I NEED to make him just as dependent on me.


	12. Recovery

Recovery

Almost 2 weeks passed without us mentioning what happened. That doesn't mean things didn't change. He's calmer for fucking one, and we've talked. Like, actual conversations. It was surreal and reminded me so much of when I was 15 and he was 19, when times were simple and it was just a creepy crush with the dude who's best friend was probably the freshman. Damn, high school was shady. I'm half sure that's were some of his bad seed reputation came from to be honest.

It was a whole shit load calmer too. He helped me come to grips with whatever the hell I am in the weirdest ways. We may not touch too often anymore, but when he does, he lays on a stupidly loud kiss always on my scar. Or when I have trouble controlling my freakishness he helps me calm down. Awkwardly, but he helps. I'm not comfortable touching him or sleeping without clothes on yet and for the first time ever he listens to me and sticks to the other side of the bed. After the first few days of deafening silence we'd get talking. About us. About the men he's following order of. Even about me.

"Why did you leave?"

I've been waiting for that question for a while now and groaned in the squashed pillow. He kept by his side but started poking my arm until I tossed the pillow at him.

"My dads brother, Ben...he was into some sick cultist shit. Branded me-"

I choke on my spit and a hand lowered to brush against the tiny cross on my right hip.

"and tried to marry me. They didn't have anything against underage relatives getting hitched I guess."

I shiver and close my eyes. There was a ceremony and everything but his plans to get us out of the state fell through when the police got a tip and I was rescued. Thankfully, before the honeymoon but it freaked my parents out enough to get us out as soon as possible. He didn't say anything about it after that and let me have my panic attack in peace. Although the stormy look on his face should probably worry me more.

The first step forward after that was when he finished the gate and gave me my own key card, to get in and out. It's more symbolic than anything, he knows I have ways of sneaking out after Eveline would call me. But it was the first time I willingly touched him and gave him a short hug. It broke the dam and my contact starved self started allowing it. Little touches on the hip and back. Hugs, closeness in bed. I should probably be freaking the fuck out more, but he never hurt me unless I provoked it by attacking or ignoring his orders. I wonder if this is how people in abused relationships feel. But, be it as it may, I'm way too trusting of this and way too at ease.

He comes to me more often than not for problems. His father being an asshole, his mother pestering him with a slight homicidal rage for grand babies, Eveline and Zoe being just bitches and a whole other slue of things. He never hits me anymore since I'm all there and don't need a full on beat down to control my rage, mostly it's just a quick crack across the ass if I'm anoying him, a favor I quickly copy on him to my eternal amusement. He looked like I offended his ancestors every time my hand makes contact with his skinny butt.

The calm around us is like electricity. The calm before the storm. It's getting easy again, to fall into routine and care for him. Might be residual mold in my brain but I get the feeling feeling I'm in it deep, with or without. Hell just yesterday I pulled him face down on the bed and worked his tired muscles until he was snoring because I was sick of him not sleeping at all.

We are becoming domestic and that terrifies me. Well, not as terrified as when he pulled something from his hoody pocket one morning we actually got up at a reasonable time, and tossed a box at me. I didn't catch it, of course. I just freaking woke up, but he still laughed when I fumbled for it. Scowling, I opened the lid and my heart about stopped.

The diamond itself was big and gaudy and obviously old but not without some elegance. The center piece may have been big but the band was a more delicate thing of vines with tiny chips of opal as leaves that wrapped and framed the almost flat thing like a picture frame. I can see a couple places missing the refracting jewel.

"The hell?"

"Was grans. Figured if yer gonna keep callin' yerself mah wife ah might as well put a ring on it."

Oh right. The Bakers were fucking loaded in the day. Now I guess their accounts were run dry, but still. They came from some old money on both sides. His jaw was clenched and he wouldn't look at me, shoulders slowing hunching the longer I didn't answer. And I may be wrong, with all this early morning light that immediately makes me think romantic, but I think he's blushing. Well fuck. If I threw it back we'd go back to normal. Safe territory. But it wouldn't really be the same so, with a soft smile, I slip it on my ring finger. This is just making it the real deal anyways. A little loose but I can get it refitted. Someday.

"Hope you realize I'll have to wear this on a necklace most the time. Don't want it getting damaged."

His shoulders slumped and the pinched look on his face relaxes into his normal smarmy smirk. Ruined by the red splashed across his face. Kinda cute. He blew an obnoxious kiss to me where he edged by the door and shrugged on his hoody.

"I'll be gone for a bit. Pa made a fucking mess again and ah need to clean it up."

I nod while admiring my new wedding ring while not thinking about the dead body that used to be a person I might have snuck out or helped. It's definitely not a traditional band, but I expect no less from the passed Baker matriarch. I vaguely remember seeing this ring, recalling how elegant it looked against her polished mahogany cane. That woman was a strict elegance that reminded me of some cold noble when she wasn't being a grandmother, her aristocratic features were only made more sternly beautiful when she gracefully gave into age and wrinkled.

I'm not surprised he gave me this one out of probably dozens of family heirlooms that might have survived, he adored Josephine. If Lucas was going to listen to anyone it would be her or his mama. I, too, looked up to her when she would visit my grandmothers to get ready for church. Those three could pull off giant ungodly ugly hats like no other. The ring was more taken care of then, but when we get out the first thing I'm doing is getting it fixed up.

Time was slow as minutes turned to an hour and I reread all the interesting articles in the trashy magazine collection I started. I shift in uneasiness. Despite my key I don't leave often and almost never without Lucas. I'm so used to him being around and he went out of the way to stay close this past couple weeks. It's really weird. So in my anxiousness I started scrubbing. He keeps a huge stash of bleach and soaps in a closet next to the room, so I open the windows and start cleaning. When I'm done a couple hours later and one porn stash looked through, the air smells of artificial lemon with the bite of vinegar and bleach.

In a random box, that's now shoved hazardously in another closet, I found a crap load of candles and got an idea. A silly little idea that probably won't do shit but is more tempting as the seconds tick by. Fuck it. I want romance damnit! I placed some fat white candles around the room for later when the sun went down and cleared the evidence of cleaning. It's all I could do for a romantic setting, since Lucas avoids alcohol like the plague and this bottle of aged wine I found, in what might have been a long forgotten stash under the floor boards, is no acceptation.

So I just take a few swigs for myself and wander around the barn. He left the monitors on and I could look closely at his victims screaming at the cameras to be let go. I know I've changed when I just felt a bit of disgust looking at them. Then again, I've killed more people with my bare hands then he will probably ever know. I take another gulp for a small buzz and leave it where I found it. Might not be a good idea to get smashed tonight.

I finished lighting the candles and smiled at my work. The room is bathed in soft candle light and is cleaned and organized fully. He probably won't appreciate it, but I do. Stripping, I walk into the shower and allow muscles to relax. I took way longer than usual until I felt the bite of cold and reluctantly came out. I rub my multitude of scars and stretch marks but square my shoulders. Confidence is key and all that bull shit people say to feel better about themselves.

At first I laid across the bed with lazy sensuality, realized how stupid I look, then propped myself up with a stained copy of some dime store romance novel. The protagonist was describing her "throbbing loins" at sight of the sexy highlander when the door opened. No cussing or slamming. Must have been an easier clean up job than usual. He looked over the room with a critical eye. He looked kind of amused but I was right, not appreciative.

"Lucas."

He sweeps over me sitting on the bed naked and his eyes are hungry. I almost "eeped" like a virgin when he started taking off his shirt. He obviously knows what me getting comfortable and naked means, and he is beyond ok with it. If I don't take control now, I'm not getting it tonight and my night of breath taking romance will be ruined. For shame.

"Stop."

He looked up, confused and possibly a little hurt.

"Come here."

He shuffled to me and sucked in his gut some when I touched a finger to his boney hip. I smiled and looped it in his stained jeans, dragging him to sit on the bed.

"Let me do this honey."

The word rolled off my tongue with the ease of a seasoned waitress, somewhat surprising me. Pet names is always his thing. As he already did half my job I press a quick kiss to his shoulder and kneel on the floor to help him shuck his boots and socks off. The jeans were a little difficult since I'm so used to him wearing cargo pants, but it was a simple hitch and soon enough I was on my knees faced with his plain red boxers.

Both of our breathing is a bit quicker and his eyes are glassy and half mast. He smiles at me, an honest to god smile, and my stomach dropped in an exciting way. Like a roller coaster. A little scary, a little fun, and at the moment kind of life changing. I push him further back on the bed, pulling the elastic band of his boxers down to where he can kick them off. His red tipped cock pops out and I almost laugh. It's always funny to see them just flop out like that.

But I swallow my reaction and at the same time him. I just want to get him past half hard so I take as much as I can and start humming around the head buried in my throat, tongue writhing against the big vein on the underside of him. His hand forced me further but I smacked his arm and he relaxes with a slurred apology, letting me lift off before I could gag. I cough a little and work the meat in front of me with a gentle hand job while I blinked away tears. I look up and see his blurry face focus into a worried look. I kind of like seeing it. Proves I'm worth something to him. He wipes away a tear with the hand not in my hair and I couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Lucas, I want to tell you something."

His knee jerked and he leaned back with closed off eyes. It's like he's heard those words before and he really doesn't like where this is going. Maybe he knows and doesn't want it acknowledged? Or maybe this is the result of a cruel prank. He looked frightened almost. I want to tear apart whoever made him look that way. Fuck it. You only live once and the way my life is going I may not make it very far.

"I love you."

I say it almost blandly but so forcefully I don't think he could doubt it. He looks like his heart stopped after rushing every drop of blood not in his boner to his face.

"."

"What?"

He clears his throat and raises his voice above a mumble.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you, Lucas."

I pressed a kiss to his jagged hip bone tonguing the hollow there before trailing up his twitching abdomen. His hand stays in place but doesn't stop me. I was able to kiss my way up to his clavicle before he dragged me up.

"Again. Say it again."

His voice was thick, his hands frantic as they pressed deeply into my body. I want him deeper. I want him inside of me, safe beneath my skin.

"I love you so much."

The kiss was softer than what we usually do. No clashing teeth or dripping blood. No fight for dominance because I give it freely tonight. I would have said that I expected love making with him to be hard and harsh. But it was tender. Kind of vanilla, but it's nice to take a breather after the more extreme sex we usually have. He was quick to turn me on my back into missionary, pressing against and inside so deeply I couldn't breathe.

He plays with the line of hard and gentle like a jump rope, changing his speed and strength every now and then, changing the feeling of each bottoming out. I can tell he's having a hard time not cuming and I reach down to my swollen clit to help him. He fit against me so well, face buried in my neck and hands gripping under me to get leverage. I can feel his lips mouthing my name like a prayer every time I screamed to the air my love for him. I don't mind that he didn't say it back. He probably will with time or get bored of me and leave. Either way he knows now and I can't take it back.

He paused and pulled out, ignoring my whine. He lifted my weighted legs to hook my knees over his shoulders and slid in easier and deeper, his thrusts becoming short and sharp. Oh god, my breath stuttered and I don't think I remember what it's like to be empty. He pushed the boundaries of my flexibility by leaning back down to bury his face in my neck folding me almost in half. The stretch of my tendons and muscles only increased my ache inside.

Just a handful of hard thrusts and I popped like a bottle rocket when he jammed against my cervix. He sobbed against my neck and punched the mattress by my head, trying to keep his own cum in. He's gotten better. Able to make it to a second orgasm now. I cradle his head and squeeze between us to flick my clit, keep me going and raising to the edge for another orgasm, as he calms down. A couple minutes later he gave a stuttering thrust and sat up on his knees, releasing my numb legs to wrap loosely around his waist. It was a gentle grinding at first until I could finally find purchase for my feet and tilted up to meet him half way.

"Fuck."

He met me with frantic short moments, one of his hands probably bruising my ass from how hard he grabbed it. He leaned down, hands helping my back arch almost impossibly, and placed his head on the crest of my ribs, breathing hard as he came with long spurts of cum that seemed to go for a minute. Shit. I was almost there. But I'm not complaining, he-

Just then he got a grip on my slippery clit and yanked. He ground his hips into mine a pressed into my stomach like he always sees me do. Well I guess I'm getting my second orgasm then anyways. It was sharp and jerking after edging for what felt like forever. I felt myself spasming around his softening dick and cried out. It feels raw inside when we finally slumped against the bed.

He spooned me, never pulling out, just shifting my body until he could lay behind me without trouble. I can smell lemon and vinegar under the strong smell of spent sex. Good thing I left the windows open, my legs aren't steady enough for the acrobatic act of opening hatch windows.

Falling asleep with him inside me seemed romantic but, in hindsight, maybe not the best idea. I woke up sticky and swollen around his cock and did not have the funnest time getting unstuck without waking him up. From his slow hardening I know that if he gets up like this I'm getting fucked through the mattress.

Sighing in relief when he came out with a soft pop, I awkwardly crawl and ignore the tingling from my cunt with every movement. His trapped cum dropped down my thighs, making my quest for a shower and not just jumping his bones a little more difficult. But I make it and scrub myself out. After my quick shower I sit on the bed and watch the sky lighten as hours tick by. In the morning it might be different. Lucas is difficult to handle and near impossible to understand, there's no telling how this could backlash in the light of day. I hope it doesn't come to bite me in the ass later.


	13. Ghost Of Bakers Past

Ghost Of Bakers Past

Like usual, we shoved the issue under the rug for another night. I don't know whether to be relieved or angry when our routine continues and I bite my tongue. Nows really not the time to try and figure this out, Lucas has me walking the perimeter and checking the cameras and if I get shot again he might actually be pissed.

I grumble and use sticks to wack trees in my bored trek across the extensive property. He promised actual food and what better be some damn good oral later in exchange for this task. I thought it was equal exchange but I should have probably asked for a foot rub, Jacks boots a few sizes too big and stupidly heavy.

I finished hours later and didn't waste time walking back, running at a steady pace out of the foliage and into the main plantation.

It's dark and creepy and I seriously hate this place. Smiling at my brightly lit safe heaven I enter, brushing my hand across the now abandoned walls of his used-to-be room. I never thought to ask him why we sleep in the back of the barn. I never asked why there was a fully furnished room there anyways. Might be something an old ranch hand would stay in or something.

Deciding to check the observation room before holing up with a random book I check inside to find it empty, lit by a single colorless monitor. A young woman, probably my age, was tied up spread eagle on some metal table stark naked. I felt cold and maybe-possibly-a little betrayed. Closing my eyes I breathe through my stuttering lungs. Lucas better as fuck have an explanation for this.

I stomp down to her holding cell, using the now memorized code to open the door, and take in the sight of the struggling woman. She stops and bloodshot eyes widen comically when she sees my face. I don't want to take it out on her, she looked scared enough as it is, but I had to ask. I had to know.

"The man, Lucas, did he do anything to you? Anything sexual or suggestive?"

I almost cringe at my lack of tact. Shit that could have came out better. But I am concerned for her, if she was touched, willingly or not, I'm castrating Lucas. She shook her head so fast she might have snapped her neck except for the support of the table and mumbled something I couldn't hear. I smiled apologetically and stepped up to begin untying her.

"How long have you been here?"

"A week maybe? I'm not sure."

Her voice is weak but sweet, her ratty brunette locks still pretty and straight. She's a plain kind of pretty you find a lot in the ideal of white teenagers. Her boobs were perfect when I took an analyzing look for any wounds and skin blemish free and smooth. I take petty pleasure in the open cuts on her legs and knotted hair, mud covering her feet. At least he cleaned and fixed me up when he kidnaped me. I cringe in shame at my thoughts that proudly point out the differences of care he gives us.

"Why the hell are you naked?"

She shrugged delicate shoulders I almost wish I had.

"He said that if I was naked it'd be easier for the rats."

A little voice screams that she's a lier, that Lucas is a filthy cheater, but I shut it up and help her stand. Looking at the poor thing shiver I sigh and start stripping to her wide eyed amazement. I pass her the bundle but before she could dress I grasp her arm.

"Listen to me closely. I can't help you passed this point or we both die if caught. You need to run as fast as you can. There's a loose panel on the far side of the barn just keep going forward and you'll see it. I keep a scrap of red paper next to it. After that go right into the woods and run. Run until you can't breath. You might just survive until dawn. If you do I'll find you and take you a step further. If you get caught I can NOT get you out again. Understand?"

Her eyes fill with tears and her little perfect Cupid's bow lip trembles but she nods. I walk out with her unashamedly nude as she struggled into my larger clothes.

"Thank you."

"Don't. It's my husband who did this to you. Now run before someone catches on."

She's wide eyed but gives me a quick hug I barely return. I feel a little numb and I shouldn't. She's obviously a captive that has no say and I will believe until my dying day that Lucas is no rapist. But that doesn't mean he wasn't cooking up a sex buddy after our stand off for the past couple weeks. The mold is very persuasive. I sigh and deflate. He'll explain later. Maybe.

I walk back upstairs and get dressed in some jean shorts he scrounged up after I complained about all the sweats and a spare hoody. I found him in the monitor room watching me walk in with a raised brow, appearing from whatever shadowy mission that consumes more and more hours. So he knows. He doesn't ask for an explanation, he never does, but he switches the cameras to the ones set up around the woods. The girl followed my advice it seems.

"Will you chase after her?"

I know no one else knows about her. Eveline likes to tell me all about the new family members and I haven't heard a whisper about a young woman lurking around the barn. He could keep her here for a while before someone figures it out. Lucas looks between me and the video of the woman running and tripping through the darkened woods. I see his wide glossy eyes grow wider with a smirk that's all teeth and sharpened his face. Shark like, my mind supplied. He seems to soak in my jealousy like a cat in a sun spot, drawing out his answer and watching me fidget. He shook his head finally, most likely deciding not to aggravate me anymore.

"Naw. Let's go have a date night baby cakes."

I felt like crying. I think in relief, maybe anger. I have it terribly bad, the artificial mold fever being replaced with the black strands of obsession.

"I love you, Lucas."

Acknowledge me damnit. He rubbed the back of his buzzed head before leaning down and pressing a careful kiss to my ravaged cheek. I can live with that, I think.

I feel the thrum of mold around us and in me. It might not be in my brain anymore but it's in the rest of my body and I can feel it pushing me outside. I push the weighted body half on top of me onto his back, still wet sweat and cum cooling in the now open air. I shake Lucas awake and he comes to with a start.

"What the shit?"

At least I think that's what he said. He slurred around he words so much I couldn't understand.

"I gotta go. Evie..."

I don't tell him what's waiting for me but we stare and understand. I'll be back. I always come back. He rolls over after squeezing my arm and almost immediately goes back to sleep. Stumbling around in the dark I struggle to put on sweats and a T shirt, taking dark pleasure in using his favorite shirt to clean my sex. I may still be slightly pissed. Considering the chilly weather I sneak his hoody from under the bed and creep out without loud noises.

Eveline waited for me outside, playing with one of her filthy spies. A crow covered in the black blood of his most recent meal. They flock to her willingly now, along with the swamp rats. I don't think anyone else knows about her little agents scuttling around but I ensure that they don't sneak into the barn anymore. I'm surprised she hasn't noticed Lucas's treachery by now with those handy things but I guess he seems so enthusiastic, that it's hard to doubt him.

"Hey baby girl. Ready to play?"

I'm not sure how I feel about the almost motherly relationship I've developed with this girl. On one hand, she needs to be destroyed, on another I'm not sure I can be the one to do it. My heart aches in a way that I know isn't mold induced and I smile when her pinched face relaxes.

"Let's get mommy first."

My stomach drops and I fight to keep a scowl off my face. That woman... I'm sure under normal circumstances she's just a doll, but right now she only trusts Zoe and violently rejects everyone else. It's my job to keep her under wraps on these outings and from being damn stupid. She wants to leave so badly she doesn't even seem to take into account the dangers of spreading the mold. Or maybe she does. I see the helicopters occasionally fly overhead and I am under no illusions. We are under surveillance by whatever shadowy corporation that will benefit from our suffering.

I don't trust the cure they talk about. How are they going to get a viable antigen in a fucking rotting corpse? I don't tell them about the cure Lucas gave me for obvious reasons, trusting them as far as I can throw 'em. They, and everyone, notices my more normal behavior but chalked it up to finally settling down and fully accepting her gift. Jack even congratulated me on it, welcoming me into the family completely. Even Evie, in her mad scramble for love, ignored it.

We take the trek to the guest house where Mia is locked up in silence. Evie skipped ahead, the illusion of her feet never touching the earth. She would race back if she found an interesting leaf or some strange bug to show off before going back. It's innocent and I smile a ghostly grin that's gone in moments.

Mia is a lot less fun. She is annoyed and impatient to get out, snapping at Eveline when she asks if she is hungry. Crap, this is going to be bad tonight. Hefting the little girl onto my hip, her hallucinated weight nothing to my own strength, I head onto the familiar trail. We take a short walk around the property, still holding her when Mia refuses to with a shaky smile. Too weak. I know the girl can toss me through a wall but don't say anything, trying to keep the girl on my hip occupied. It gives me time to think about my theory before we get ready to head out into the swamp.

Something more is at work in this house. Something powerful and protective of all the inhabitants. To a point. It seems like the Bakers are always the most protected and while I just chalked it up to Eveline's strangeness, now I'm not so sure. Seemingly random opening and closing doors, piano music sometimes haunting the air, routes clearing as I sometimes have to run from the murderous family. If I didn't know any better I'd say the damn place was haunted.

We go into the swamp on a small wooden boat, Mia rowing as I keep Eveline entertained by calling sleepy alligators and water snakes to be pet. Sometimes, in the very back of my mind, I hope she gets bitten. We stop maybe a mile into the wetlands where Evie sighed in frustration.

"Why does it never stay?"

She stomped her foot and heaved over the side, vomiting black sludge into the murky water, infecting it and the wildlife with her gift. I know why. I can feel them watching us. Mia makes a discreet sign to what might be her informant and I shake my head. They're not going to help us. We're a fucking science experiment, we need to be contained until this plays out. Maybe it'll be soon, Evie grows weaker everyday, brittle bones now unable to support her, sight fuzzy, and heart now failing. I'll give her half a year at best but I am under no illusions. When the experiment is done I'll either be gone with Lucas or I'll be left to be captured.

I left the two girls alone for some "mommy-daughter" bonding after an hour of lazy floating. I'm left to my thoughts as I wander the property, occasionally having to shoo away a goop monster that gets too close or hiding from a panic stricken abductee. I didn't see the girl among them so she's either hiding or captured. Maybe she even made it past the property lines but that's doubtful. Eveline keeps an entire armada protecting it, making sure no one escapes.

Ahead of my aimless wandering a decrepit building, that looks like dry tinder just waiting to spark, leaned ominously on the side. Some multicolored broken glass lingered in the panes and I relax from the sickly dread. The abandoned church I got married in. I stride in, past the broken pews, the crunching of the boots over broken glass my only crescendo. I take a knee in front of the alter and raise my head to the half shattered image of Mary and baby Jesus above the tilted cross. I don't know what to say so I just lean down and put my face in my hands. I stay for a long heart beat before standing and nodding at the cross. I know better than to beg forgiveness for my sins. I will hold them in my soul for the rest of my life.

I have long found my peace with god and church. I may not go every Sunday or be a devote follower but I can see religion in life. In the deepest cells and atoms, science a form of magic and an act of god. Crazy cultists and extremist may have ruined the idea for my a while ago but, while I don't forgive or understand them, I can accept the cross burned into my skin without disgust.

But I have always and will always be more connected to spirituality and the Voodoo I should have learned from my grandmother Veronica. That woman was a witch if there ever was one, dabbling in voodoo, Christianity, and Wiccan. Her grim is locked up in storage along with all the other books and materials my father doesn't want me near. I know enough to maybe get this right. By a stroke of luck and some serious bullshit.

I give a watery smile to empty air I walk out to stumble down the path to the Baker matriarchs private cabin. Lucas and I snuck in once on a double dare. We had skulked around with a pack of cigarettes that we hacked and coughed around like idiots and some cheap vodka that I spat out almost immediately.

In our fascination looking at the mason jars of weird ingredients and occult items we didn't notice the old woman sneak up on us. She dragged us out by the ears and let my grandmother deal my punishment. Whacked my butt red and made me apologize by deep cleaning the shack. Ah memories.

Voodoo is a bit different than what the tourists see. It's heavier. A mite darker with animal sacrifices offered to the spirits. But it's far from evil. Just like Grandma Baker was far from evil. That woman was one of the most powerful priestess I've evah laid my eyes on, her and my grandmothers often congregating in our home before ceremonies. She could have told me she lived for centuries and I would have believed her, the saturation of energy so thick around her I believed in gawd and heaven.

I remember their faces, one a wrinkled aristocrat with skin as thin and light as paper. The other smooth, dark enough to match the plumbs she so often gave me and her mother, a tiny hunched thing with a laugh like the knuckle bones she kept in her embroidered coin purse. The woman who is my namesake. I remember Josephine Baker as a tall and willowy woman with a stern face and a pianists hands. She had Jacks and Lucass nose and she bore it proudly.

They'd sew and knit and gossip like old women but I still have the chicken bone necklace she made me. And the snake skin bracelet. At least I did. I still don't know what Lucas saved from the fires. From what I remember, Lucas was a mamas boy but no one in the world could replace his grandmother and their connection. I get a deep gut feeling that whatever mental illness he has they shared.

I paused on the way to get my bearings and heard hissing. Smiling I hiss back. The snake came, almost willingly and eagerly. Like the spirits know I have questions to be answered and sent me the perfect sacrifice. I hold out my hand and let it slither of it's own accord, dry smooth scales feeling cool on the arm it wraps itself around. Cooing at the pretty thing I find the semi hidden shack and allow myself in. It wasn't boarded up or disturbed at all. Hacking around the thick layer of dust, I use a brush broom to tidy a bit while collecting the stuff I think I'll need; a bowl, a still sharp cleaver and what looks like a small butchers knife, a white candle, and sage smudge stick that may or may not work now that I think of it.

I look and wonder if I'm verging on witchcraft instead of voodoo but shrug. Might as damn well. I lit a fire with the bone dry kindling and matchbox, slowly stoking it to life while the snake curled around my hand. I feel pretty bad for this now. Sighing I lay it on the table and give it a chance to leave while I clean the big knife. Even when I come at it the pretty thing is calm and unmoving.

Severing the head off in one go I tie the body to the low rafters with a length of dusty twine to drain the blood into the bowl. Working quickly I skin and butcher the snake, taking its meat to be cooked by the fire and leaving its bones next to the head. I find a dusty cheese cloth and wrap them up. They could be used for something cool.

When the tender meat is done I set it by the now lit candle and awkwardly sit there, not knowing what to say. I really should have studied this. Gulping, I dip a finger in the strangely still warm blood and taste it. Gross. Taking another dip I put it on my forehead right in the middle. I heard that's where the minds eye is. Waiting tensely for a while I sigh in frustration. Standing suddenly I accidentally knock over the bowl with a distant curse. The air pressure drops and my ears are cotton stuffed. I can't move from my half leaning posture and I watch in fascination as the bowl rolls and rolls spilling red blood across the floor. It runs like water, soaking into the dust bunnies and lonely chicken feathers littering the floor. It shines like a hellish mirror. It feels like forever when I realize that is way more blood than it should be, slowly coating the entire floor.

"Evie? Honey, stop please!"

I pray through my stiff lips when it doesn't stop. This isn't a hallucination. Evie isn't doing this. I gasp as sticky blood rises faster and faster. Ankles, knees, waist, and finally over my head. I squeeze my eyes shut against it and babble for forgiveness in my mind to whatever spirit I pissed off. I fall to my knees without the pressure and gasp for breath. I look down at my impeccable clothes and catch a look at the now glassy like blood that reflects the sky so well I felt like I was walking on the stars.

Looking up, I see unending night sky, the Milky Way thick and bright surrounded completely by glowing stars that look as if I could pluck them from their inky canvas. The air pressure increased dramatically and I scream as my ear drums burst until I struggle to breathe. My ears ring and scream as I look down again and see something like a face that was both old and young. Handsome and beautiful. Kind and stern. Grandma Peach.

Another face lurks behind hers, stern and scared, riding it out with me as I hear the clink of knuckle bones under the shrill ringing. Josephine Baker. Her nose gives it completely away. I mouth their name and a smile flashes. I can't tell if it's glorious or hideous in its emotion. They fade and are replaced by flashes of lights and sounds, half formed images blinding me to the world. Josephine Baker has been waiting a long time to tell me and I just now gave her the channel. Screaming soundlessly I watch as pictures slowly blur but connect to each other something that sounds like an out of tune violin in my ear.

Jack, Zoe, Marguerite, Lucas, Zoe, Marguerite, Jack, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas. Image after image of the family flash and glow brighter than the others that depict a sterile hospital like room, Eveline dressing in a hospital gown, huddled in the corner along with a dozen other children. A syringe filled with blue liquid is the last thing I see before falling to the ground.

Starting awake with a gasp to find myself still seated and the upright bowl now coated in a thick layer of dried blood. A trembling hand reaches up and picks away the flaking blood on my forehead. Shaking limbs give out a few times as I stand up and clean up best I can, the slowly lighting sky my only passage of time in my suspended moment. In an absent minded thought I put the wrapped handkerchief and tie it to a belt loop, too big and delicate for my pocket.

I am completely sure I did everything wrong but all they needed was a sacrifice and some blood. It opened a floodgate and I'm not sure I'm ready to know completely what it means. Dawn was cresting the horizon, painting the sky oranges and yellows when I finally left. I stumble back home and collapse onto the bed, knowing if only a single truth that weighs me down like a ton of bricks. I may be the only savior this family has.


	14. Should Have Stayed Home

Should Have Stayed Home

A tricky little side effect was left with me that night in that forgotten shack. Goddamn voices, constantly murmuring in the back of my mind in languages probably long forgotten. They speak in unison and I can't even tell them apart sometimes. They often get louder, warning me of danger around every corner against both me and Lucas. I can drown them out with music and mindless sex but they come back every time. I doubt I'll have a quiet mind again. Sometimes they weave images in my now open minds eye, loose instructions to my mission.

All I could think about was the ones of Lucas. Lucas, Lucas, Lucas over and over again, permanently burned into the back of my retinas. Why the hell do they keep showing me that? In my anxious worry I became even more clingy than Lucas could stand, until he got annoyed and I was left to my own devices. I scrounge up some of the taxidermy tools Jack has in his man cave. It's easy to polish the snake ribs and bleach the skull to a white but kind of tedious.

It's weird looking at the polished and rounded bones and knowing it was alive, I held it and felt it's heart flutter. Maybe I could make something for Lucas out of them. If it'll shut up the constant muttering of voices, I'd carve it from elephant ivory. As usual I wrap up my little project in the cloth and hide it under my pile of magazines in the corner. Put a couple Vogue on top and he won't even touch it. Just as I do that Lucas wanders in from a long night of torture, sighing like a man that just worked 9-5.

"Hey."

He mumbled and toed off his boots. I shrug, not offended, and go to the bathroom. Nice and fucking peaceful until I wipe and look down, expecting to see red one of these days. Like always, there's nothing and I squeeze my eyes close. I haven't had a period since I got here. It could have been my birth control at first but half a year later? It wouldn't last this long. I got my shot right before the trip, it would have filtered out within 3 months. I stand and feel like I'm walking on clouds, out of this world and maybe a little lost. Leaning on the door frame, I watch the now shirtless Lucas sit on the corner of the bed, tools in hand.

"Lucas."

"Hmm?"

He mumbled while fixing up one of his gadgets.

"Will we ever have kids?"

He stiffens and almost drops his screw driver. Straight as the rod in a drill sergeants ass, he turns to look at me like a deer caught in car lights.

"Why? You want em?"

I shrug helplessly and shift from foot to foot.

"We'd be terrible parents."

He relaxes and starts to giggle and snort at the very idea. I ignore my own sinking stomach and laugh along with him. We can fix this later. He'll fix me. Right?

When I finally got the guts to ask him if I could go into a town for "something" I was surprised by his nonchalant reaction. We were leaning into the engine of an old and rusted truck. It was so old there weren't any seat belts on the single bench chair.

"Yea, I'll take you after we fix this piece of shit up."

Not exactly the response I was expecting. I thought it'd turn into a fight, maybe some angry fucking, and when he was relaxed enough I'd ask him again to cover me for a trip into town.

"They let you leave?!"

He looks at me like I'm a particularly special brand of stupid.

"How the hell did you think we have food and materials?"

"I-"

I had no sarcastic comment to cover my embarrassment. He rolls his eyes and gets back to fixing the shitty engine. I go back to passing him stuff and cranking where I'm told.

"Anything else I'm too dense to notice around here? A mistress in the basement? Secret family hidden in another house?"

Like what I thought about with that girl. Turns out he really was going to feed her to the rats-using a bowl to trap them on her stomach, fucking disgusting-but he admitted it was a nice view and that's why she was nude. Fucker lost his arm privileges that night. I never found her after she made it into the woods and I assumed she was caught, prayed to the nameless woman, and went about my day trying not to think about how scared she must have been.

His head banged against hood from his laughter but I can't find it in myself to make fun of him. What if there is another girl somewhere around here? No, that's just my insecurities talking. For one, he had the tack of a rampaging bull with me. For another, I'm pretty sure I keep him more than sexually sated. If he wants torture porn he can fucking watch it, as long as it's not some deluded chick he's got locked up. Hopefully, its not a real fear and I feel dirty considering.

"But seriously, how do you keep this place running? Everyone else is..."

"Fucking stupid? Yea I know."

"I was going to say not in the right mind, but sure. Fucking stupid."

"Well, continuing before you rudely interrupted me,"-I elbow his side as I hand him a wrench he pointed at-"I keep the electricity up by stealing and rewiring from the grid. Water is from a well some where. For everything else, I use the money from the suckers around here."

I feel like he's keeping something from me. There's no way he can get enough money from the multitude of homeless and the small fraction of middle class people to pay for all this shit. I had assumed it all just hung around the property but now I feel kind of stupid. Maybe cash from the suits? But why would he hide that, he's keeping me in the loop now?

"Some stuff comes from things Zoe scavenges around in abandoned homes. It's why Eveline keeps the dumb bitch sober."

"What!"

He side eyed me and pursed his lips.

"You thought she just did it out of will power? No, Evie needs her as her fetching girl. She'd sends Zoe on town runs usually, but she doesn't know what shit I need to fix the electrical wires in the house. I've been sent more often but that's because she's gotten her ass grounded too many times."

I pass him another weird do-hicky I don't know the name of. He tightens one more thing before stepping out and cleaning with the torn up shirt beside him, throwing down the now greasy rag into the tool box.

"Get in the car sugar tits, and start the engine."

He swats my blessedly jean clad ass and starts to clean up.

"Ask, or I'll run you over."

He huffs but I can see the smile in the corner of his mouth.

"Peach, my love, my life, start the fucking car please."

I don't put any weight in the teasing words, trying to still my pounding heart. Sliding in, I grab the keys from the dashboard and rev the engine. It sounds powerful. I cut it off and hopped out tossing him the keys.

"Ok, so where the fuck did you get the new engine?"

It was way less rusted than the rest of the metal giant. He shrugs and pockets the keys before shooing me away from the makeshift garage he keeps in the back and into the main barn.

"Some jack ass with a truck drove right into the swamp."

He giggles and his eyes look shiny.

"Didn't get to him before the gators but I got his shit."

He uses another rag to clean up the rest of the motor oil and shrugs on the abandoned hoody on one of the many tables.

"Go get yer shit, we leave in 10."

I nod and run upstairs, deciding to keep the grease spotted jeans and slipping on one of the prettier shirts he'd given me and one of his spare hoodies. Snagging a random cap off the floor I fit it over my head and run down stairs, not really caring what I look like. Lucas gives me a once over before nodding and leading me back to the truck by the small of my back.

I can't physically contain my excitement as he maneuvers the lumbering beast out the small gate by the shack, immediately turning on a newish looking radio. It takes some tuning but I manage to get a only minimally staticky station. It takes almost a half hour of me yelling along to the Hits One station for him to reach across my lap and tear open the glove compartment. A few dozen CDs spilled out, all rock of course, and I laughed while he gritted his teeth.

I give in and pop in some random band I never heard of, a softer rock that I can vibe to while we drove into town. To my surprise he lifted his hood and by passed it. I guess if you're declared missing while living in the murder house you don't want to be found out. The next over is bigger, almost a small city and we both relax. No one could recognize us here. He pulls up next to a dusty looking Walmart and drops a huge wad of 20s into my lap along with a small flip phone.

"Get whatever you need, I'll be back to get you in an hour and then we leave. Just dial one if you need me, and I'll come get you."

I stare blankly and gingerly pick up the money. He's just dropped me a few hundred and is leaving me for at least an hour. I could take the money and run. I could steal a car, he already taught me how to hot wire. Hell, I could call the police. The thoughts filter out in seconds. I'm not going anywhere and he damn well knows it. Pulling him in for a quick kiss I hop out and wave as he rolls out of the parking lot, rushing into the store. If I want actual food I better get it now.

In half an hour I had zoomed across the store for all my necessities I forgot I missed. Loofahs, body wash and shampoo, a basket of fruit, and fried chicken along with boxes of cereal and junk food. A couple packs of cheap panties and sports bras. I even guiltily snagged a tube of mascara and concealer. I miss feeling pretty. That, and a few pregnancy tests, and I'm ready to go 20 minutes early. As I'm checking out I call Lucas and decide last second to check out the strip mall across the lot.

"Going to the strip, see you in 20?"

He grunted and I could hear the sound of gruff voices in the background.

"I grabbed some fried chicken and hush puppies if you're hungry."

He breathed out and thanked me under his breath, the voices getting louder with every second.

"Jesus, what's going on over there?"

I can hear the genderless overlapped voice in my ear whisper and I ignore it. The damn thing is always aggravated when either of us might be in danger.

"Jus' some side work, baby. I'll see you in 20."

I hang up and accept my groceries, making sure none of the bills I hand over are blood stained. As I walk across I wonder if this was the best idea when the 6 bags slapped annoyingly on my thighs and cut into the skin of my inner elbow. The strip mall consists of a run down Tai place, a craft store, and a couple boutiques. Without thinking about it I step into the craft store, breathing in the familiar scent of yarn and dusty AC.

"Ma'am, can you leave your bags up front please?"

The young teen at the counter smiled apologetically but I'm more relieved than anything. I don't know why I thought I could lug around these groceries while shopping.

"Yea, of course."

I gently set the bags on the table and go into the main store. It's small but well furnished. It's no Michael's but for a small business the homey place is pretty damn good. It was only me and a few other customers, an elderly couple and a young man.

"Hey!"

I turn to see the guy and raise a brow. He's a man of average height and build but his smile is kind of dazzling.

"Sorry, can you help me? I'm trying to find some good yarn for my mom but I don't know what to get."

I shrug and smile, remembering my giant collection of homemade beanies back home.

"Sure, what's she making?"

I helped him but it didn't end at that. We got talking and I was really into the conversation, talking animatedly to someone normal for once and not even wondering why we were following each other around the store. He didn't pick anything up but I was able to grab the needed for what I'm making for Lucas. Smooth twine and pretty green glass beads. When he asks for my number my smile falls. Great. I have found the one dude in this county attracted to hideous scars and bitch faces in a craft store. I edge away and plaster a smile back to my face.

"I'm sorry but I need to go find my husband now."

"Husband?"

He looks me up and down and zeros onto my currently bare ring finger. His smirk turns greasy and my chest feels frozen.

"Ah don' see no ring, honey."

Oh god I feel disgusting when he says that. I tug the chain I found in a drawer a while ago from under my shirt and show him.

"I have to get it refitted so I don't want to risk it falling off before then."

As I showed it off his face darkened and I felt the imposing presence behind me. Lucas. I lean back into him and smile up.

"This is my husband. Excuse us but we gotta get going, nice to meet you."

His grip on my waist tightens to almost crushing as we check out and the man shadowed us. Shit.

"Hey buddy-"

The man claps a hand on Lucas's shoulder before he flipped around and gripped it crushingly. He was calm though, greasy smile in place.

"That was mighty rude of you to interrupt us friend. I think the lady has a right to talk to whoever without you breathing down her neck."

My eyebrows shoot to the sky when he grins at me. The fuck? This is the furthest thing I thought would happen when I came into town. Maybe he sees the scars as a huge source of insecurity? Easy target when self esteem is low.

"I'm sorry but we really have to get home."

He was behind us in line and my muscles tensed the longer we stood there. Dear god, the feeling of the man looking at me is greasy. The voices were almost screaming at this point, warnings in unknown languages blaring in my brain. Something is seriously wrong. My stomach sank when he offered to help me carry the bags when Lucas just turned to the door. Knowing better than to reject him I hand him half my groceries with a shaky smile.

I have to forcefully remind myself I have superhuman strength. That if he tries anything I could beat him to a pulp. He's not even that tall, no were near as Lucas, but he gets uncomfortably close. Lucas walks ahead while the man yaps, back stiff and legs stomping. Something went wrong. As the dude bro goes on a speech about how a husband shouldn't leave his wife to carry everything I rush ahead and bump elbows with my currently distressed husband.

"What's wrong?"

His hand flung out and fisted into the back of my shirt, tugging me closer.

"Business went sour, then I come to pick you up and see you flirting with a jackass."

Before I could get angry the man comes up and smiles a winning smile, helping us load the groceries into the back. I thanked him and almost screamed in frustration when he asked for a hug in return.

"Uh, I'm not sure about that."

I laughed nervously when he opened his arms and said he wasn't taking no for an answer. Jesus. I could refuse but I saw the confident look in his eye and the leatherman on his hip. He is not taking no for an answer. I give him a stiff armed hug and tried to tug away within milliseconds only to be held tightly. Oh god, oh god, oh dear god. Lucas got into the space and tore him off, throwing him at our feet.

"Hey you ugly mother fucker! I was just hugging her!"

Lucas snorts and tugs me to the truck, hand crushing my wrist.

"Yea, well she was an ugly whore anyways."

My shoulders hunched and I wanted to disappear. A few people in the crowded lot watched the whole damn thing and didn't stop him or even ask if everything was ok. I may be a monster but I fucking hate people. When we got to the truck both of us were stiff and I noticed how the sun was beginning to climb back down. The cab was silent as we munched on our fried chicken and listened to the radio.

He doesn't complain but I kind of want him to. He's so quiet, occasionally looking at his FrankenPhone to shoot off a text. I feel pretty invisible and the stupid voices won't shut up. Slumping against the door I look in the rear view mirror and watch the car behind us. It's when we're out of city limits that I get a suspicion. When we passed by the tiny town of Dulvey almost a half hour later without it stopping my stomach sank.

"Lucas."

"Ah know."

Shit. I gulp and hold onto the door handle while we made the turn into the dirt road. The car is far behind but I can see the dust cloud rising. Lucas parked in a stretch between town and home, a drive of another long abandoned farm next to us. No people for miles around. The car catches up to us and immediately Lucas steps out, a tire iron he kept under the seat in a white knuckle grip. I felt my brain short circuit when the man from the store stepped out. Who the hell follows a woman that rejected them?! Holy shit, that's sick.

When Lucas swung at the mans headlights I screamed in my hand. I may see him become some twisted cousin of Jigsaw but I have never seen him get physically violent. Not even with his father, he just takes it and heals. I fumbled out when the creep squared up as if he could take a swing at Lucas and live. He may be a disgusting creep, but if I could save just one person I'd be happy. I get between the two and when my bare hand makes contact with the small bit of the strangers exposed chest, I know I made the wrong choice.

Lucas makes a sound like a fucking animal, deep and base, while the guy took hold of my elbow and got closer. My skin crawled and I know with complete certainty that he is a goddamn monster. That this isn't the first time this has happened. The voices of his victims cry in my ear, girls and women who were raped and killed, their husbands and partners killed for trying to save them. I tear away and fall to the ground, freeing space for the bar to connect with the side of his head.

I'm gasping and trembling as the low roar in my head slowly quiets, Lucas crouching in front of me waiting out what he probably thought was a panic attack. I nodded to show I was ok but from the look on my face I must look pretty queasy. I watch from the ground as he ties up the body and dumps him in the back with our groceries, gagging him with a scrap of his own shirt and he pulled out a cord to tow his car behind us.

"In. Now."

He is pissed. Probably about what happened earlier today but also by whatever his twisted mind made of the situation. I jump into the passenger side curled into myself as he towed the car into the swamp after he searched it. I don't look at the stuff he pulled out. We didn't make it far when he stopped the truck and hopped out. Just now I notice we are still in the unfamiliar swamp, taking a back road deeper in. I jumped when he nearly tore my door off the hinge and I crambled away on reflex, stopped by the blank look on Lucas's face.

"Over here. Now!"

I obeyed despite my own anger. If he snaps he could break me in half. I scootched across the bench hesitantly, only for my legs to be yanked until I was pressed against him, ass barely on the seat.

"Lucas."

My sharp admonishment was met with a frantic kiss that tore the inside of my lip trailing down my ruined cheek where he bit into the place my jaw and neck met. He didn't let go when I squirmed in his hold he just yanked my head back with my short curls. I was shaking when blood began to flow and soak into my shirt. He's so close to my wind pipe and jugular and so lost he might tear it out if I fight. He let go only to start dragging his tongue through the trail of blood all the way between my cleavage where he stayed. I pressed my hand against the throbbing wound and leaned my head away wearily.

"What was that about?"

I almost choked on my tongue when he snapped his hips up to press his erection into my jean covered cunt.

"Here? Now?"

I was a little scared, yes. There's a dude in our truck and Lucas is one push from becoming unhinged. But more than that I, felt like I was on fire with excitement. I have never had sex in a car and from the looks of it, this is going to get rough. I helped him strip my body but before I could tug his hoody off he shoved me back and yanked my legs around his hips.

"Lucas what the hell?"

When I tried to sit up he placed a palm under my breasts and held me down while unbuttoning his jeans.

"Let me do this Peach."

I wanted to take control. I wanted to fuck him so had I fell apart. But I could get into this. Plus, I think he might need this. He barely had to prep me, fingers sinking in easily. I'm almost always wet these days. He give me a quick smile before climbing up on top and pushing me back until he could close the door, enclosing us in a private space separated from the whole world. Instead of just grabbing my hips and trusting in he turns me on my side facing the back of the bench, my left leg dangling over his shoulder. We've tried this before and it's awesome for quickies, getting him deep but not enough room or power to make it hurt. He settles with his other hand and ever so carefully presses inside, gently to savor the first fresh parting.

He started carefully, hard thumb pressing into my clit, playing me like a finely tuned guitar. I used to think he'd get bored with me, that he'd dispose of me and get some new pussy. But he always explores my body like it's new and fascinating to him, fingers tracing the shape of me, hips fitting against mine perfectly as his hands rove and squeeze. Seconds turned to minuets, gentle rolling turned to hard and jarring thrusts, his free hand reaching down to tug a nipple as I turned my rolled my upper body so I could hold onto the door handle. I came with a muffle scream when one of his hands squeezed my ass and the other went back to pinch my clit.

He came with me, groaning as he hunched over my leg and carefully rolled his hips, hands scooping up the drops that escaped with practiced ease and rubbing it gently into my labia and inner thighs. My eyes roll into the back of my head and little after shakes caught my whole body, more and more cum leaking from the clenching. He laughs quietly and kisses the inside of my knee. I thought we were done there when he carefully pulled out until I noticed him rubbing his cock back to life. His stamina is amazing and way more than mine will ever be. Side effect from the infection? If it is, it's one of the better ones.

He yanked me up harshly and arranged me like he wanted, sitting right on the bench with my legs splayed and raised. I'm dubious about it until he gets straight, knees bracketing my hips and hands holding the back of the seat, pushing my supported legs higher and further immobilizing me. If he had spare rope I don't doubt that he would tie me up to keep me completely still. He molded himself to me and slid in deeply while burying his head in my shoulder. Not knowing what to do with my arms I slide them under his clothes resting on his back and taking the hard and fast thrusts he dished out immediately. Tighter and tighter he held me and I just sobbed and rode him, finally feeling safe after the whole incident. I babbled like an idiot while nudging his head and burying nail into his jerking muscles. Maybe for relief or maybe to spur him on, I have no idea.

"He tried to take me from you. He wanted to take me away and fuck me, but you won't let him."

"Fuck, thas right Peach. Shhh, come on, take it baby. All you have to do is take it."

So I did, hanging on limply as he jack hammered inside of me. He's slurring and I felt the hot burn of tears run down my shoulder as he bit down on it. My own tears leaked out and stained his hoody. Under my breath I mutter and beg him to hold me tighter. To not let go. He's unusually quiet, just grunts and slow whines whenever I would sob his name.

Normally he'd be saying something filthy and spanking me red while cooing one of his many pet names but the situation is a little different. Anyone passing by would have assumed he was raping me. It felt like it should have been with how violently he presses inside, not all my tears are of relief. But every time my muffled cry of pain sounded he would slow or stop all together until I rolled my hips just right to get him moving.

I could feel his last load drip out between us, soaking into the rough jeans that catch my clit with every moment. That's a lot better, wet fabric less painful than dry. I could hear the sloppy sounds of us and the low moaning of the suspension. I was honestly surprised when the truck didn't just fall apart when he raised his arms to wrap around the back of my head, stretching my hamstrings past comfort to roll in harder and harder. The cab jumped with us, my tits bouncing almost uncomfortably with the second momentum. My nipples scraped roughly against the thick fabric of his favorite hoody, catching the zipper and sending ice down my spine.

I could feel my face being to stretch and I blush in embarrassment. Sometimes the frills come out during sex but he doesn't even pause, just gets out of the way from the shape pokes and rested his forehead against mine. His eyes are squeezed shut and his breathing is shallow. The air between us sparks, filled with our moans and unspoken words. He was angry. I was scared. And I love him.

I don't say it but I do pucker my lips against his, letting him do the rest of the work since I physically can't lean up any further. Tongues swirling and lips bitten, we came together again and I screamed in his mouth at the burning numbness of the furious rubbing stopping, melding flesh to flesh. His cum felt even hotter than before, burning swollen and abused nerves as I shook and twitched on his lap. The spiny appendages relaxes and sunk back in and I wince a bit at the familiar pain, squeezing a hand between us so I could run away the bone deep ache.

"Can, uh, can we talk about this?"

He hissed through his teeth and gave me a lazy glare. So that's a no. Not surprised, he really isn't into feeling sharing. But sometimes, if I leave enough post it notes on his monitor, he'll start writing responses to my questions. He pulled out with a hiss as our skin stuck and pulled. Fuck, that feels good. He leaned his back on the dash and kept my legs up so he could see me leak, and I have to hold onto the brackets where a gun rack would be so I don't fall over.

"Ya done admiring the view?"

The air lightened a bit when he smiled but he was closed off right after, not meeting my eyes as he let me go and watched me slump over. My insides hurt but it'll pass in a while. He patted my thigh and jumped out, arranging my legs so they wouldn't get caught in the door, but other than that didn't do anything to clean me up. Hopping back onto the other side he started the car with barely a glance over at me. I lied there, sweaty, naked, with cum pooling under me, and the only thing I could think was I hope he doesn't make me clean up the mess.


	15. Burning Love

Burning Love

I stayed down the entire ride home, wide awake and grew more nervous the more the silence dragged on. Lucas must have some serious confidence issues if he thinks I'm gonna leave him for some jackass in a craft store, that and those absolutely bat shit crazy head problems and maaaybe a sprinkle of possessiveness. Ok, a huge truckload that I now notice is fucking smothering the banana Sunday of crazy. This is not going to end well for anyone.

"Lucas?"

I sound pathetic. Lucas reaches down and squeezes my hand. Relaxing a bit, I squeeze back and just hold it. He's mad but not too mad. When we parked outside the house, no one came to greet us. Must be later than I thought. He helps me stand up, and I try to ignore the fact that I'm naked and my thighs are completely slick with cum. Haven't streaked in months, why the hell not.

"Get inside."

I nod and wobble to the barn, refusing to look over my shoulder when I hear him grunt and lift up the man. He catches up when I move to make it to the bedroom, and he stops me by the arm.

"No. Go downstairs, I'll be there when I'm done with him."

A chill washed down my spine, but I nod and go down, sitting on a table and not caring for the stain of fluids I leave behind. Lucas doesn't make me wait long, walking past me, ushering me deeper inside with a wave. We head to one of the sections of stalls that haven't been converted into cells yet, and I see a lone medical table, straps and all.

"Up."

He's gotten to one-word sentences then. Gingerly sitting on it, my breath whooshes out when he shoves me down and straps me in with the thick leather ties. A lingering kiss on my forehead feels like a brand when he leaves me there and starts fiddling with something out of sight. The room lights up with orange as I hear the crackling of fire and warmth against the top of my head. What the hell?

"Lucas?"

My voice warbles and chokes when I bow my body to look above my head and see him warming up something on a metal stick in the now open furnace. A god damn brand.

"I fixed this up when you first got here but after a few week ah figured it wasn't necessary and let it be. Sweetheart, I don't ask much of life. A bed, food, electricity to run my experiments. A fucking faithful wife."

"Lucas you know I didn't-"

He continues stoking the flame, ignoring me squirming on the table.

"Be quite, Peach. Ah know you didn't fuck with him. I know you weren't going to. It hurt though, to see you flirting with such a fucking idiot. Do you know how that makes me feel? How it makes me look?"

I sobbed and shook my head. I was right. This isn't going to end well. Before in the truck, was more of an affirmation that I was there, I was safe, and the creep didn't get me. This is a punishment for just talking to the fuck boy.

"I wasn't flirting. I swear!"

He looked over at me with indescribable eyes, flames making the bright blue a hellish orange.

"Ya know, I think I believe you. That won't change the fact this needs to be done. If I realized that every other meathead from here to Timbuktu would take you for some teasing lay, I woulda fucked your face up before you got infected."

I'm not sure what he thinks is fucked up, I already have a scar the size of the moon on my face. I swallow and start to shake when he picks up the branding rod.

"As it is I'm just gonna make sure you live with the reminder. Yer mine. The second you set foot on this property you were mine, and I will gladly tear that guys dick off and feed it to him via ass to prove it."

I only spare a microsecond of pity for the man in one of his torture rooms. Lucas will probably do just that. He started to heat up the brand as he talked. It wasn't glowing or anything, but I flinched when he pulled it out and centered it on my stomach. A giant 'L' from my belly button to where my mound starts.

"Don't move."

I scream in agony when the hot metal makes contact. It only stayed for maybe a second or two, but the pain is striking and immediate. It began to dull as my healing took over and he pressed firmly back in. Sparks of pain raced up my spine and across my skin. More shocking was the drag of pleasure when he would lift up the brand and the burn was free to the air and stretched.

"Oh gawd, it hurts!"

And it fucking does. Not near as much as getting cut in half but it's not a walk in the park either. I'm lucky he's not feeling particularly sadistic and is actually letting me adjust instead of just pressing in until it stays. I rethink that when the wound began to throb and burn sharply in open air. That's what made it all the more confusing when the broken fragments of pleasure sunk into my belly and raced through my hips and sex. My clit throbbed in time with the burn as he brought it down again. I try my best not to squirm, ugly tears streaking down my face as he destroyed skin cells again and again until it has no choice but to scar. He went back to reheat once more before he was satisfied. My stomach was itching in agony and I think a small puddle formed under me. I can't tell if it's piss or cum, nostrils overpowered by the smell of burning skin and hair.

"Shh, hey baby it's ok."

I shook my head, tears and snot running down my face. He doesn't apologize, but he holds my face and wipes the mess away.

"You ain't gonna leave me."

I wasn't going to! I try to wiggle from my restraints and my eyes rolled into the back of my head when the skin on my stomach began to stretch and split. I look down and I know that's going to leave a deeper and darker scar that the cross. It'll fade faster but I have a feeling he'll just renew the burn every now and then. Keep it fresh and prominent so I never forget. My hips roll up greedily, relishing in the pain that seemed to sink into my stomach. My cunt drooled and I suddenly smell the sharp tang of my cum. Definitely not piss then.

"Aw sweetheart."

He giggles and presses a kiss to my forehead. A boney finger flicks my throbbing clit a few times while he hums tunelessly in my ear.

"Ah need you to stand up. Can you do that baby?"

I nod shakily, and he releases me and helps me stand up. In a delayed act of rebellion, I don't move when he tries to gently lead me to the hallway littered with cells. I know where this is going.

"Peach, move yer ass or I lead ya by the cunt."

Damn, that's a threat worthy of his father's filthy mouth. I scowl and look away ignoring the itchy stretch of tears when he kicks my knees apart and digs three fingers suddenly inside of my cunt. I choke on my tongue as he tugs and leads me stumbling forward.

Fingers hooked inside; he leads me like I'm leashed to one of the many makeshift cells peppering the barn. Hands shaking in excitement, he pressed in the code and led me in, hand still buried inside of me. I whine like a fucking dog at the almost violent tug stretching muscles and pressing fingertips into my G-spot. I might bruise after this, and I'm not just talking about my pride. Just as I thought, the captive was the man from the store, tied down and screaming for help. Why do they always do that?

"Heeeey lookit this here, Peach. It's that no good mother fucker from the store! Ya remember him, baby cakes?"

His other hand gripped my clit hard and pulled when I didn't answer. I almost fell on my ass, but his arm keeps me up.

"Y-yea Lucas. I remember."

The guy, John I think he mentioned, remembered me too it seems. His eyes bulge at the sight of me naked and essentially being fingered right in front of him. Lucas gently massages my insides with his bony knuckles in reward. I duck under his chin and press a quick kiss to his Adam's apple. I may be pissed, but I feel the need to make it more clear that I'm with him as a willing participant.

"You fucking bitch what did you do to me!? Hey man, I didn't know she was taken, she was flirting back, so I just thought she was single ya know. Everyone makes that mistake sometimes!"

What a dumb asshole.

Lucas's insistently rubbing fingers disappeared along with his supporting arm. I dropped to the floor in relief, quivering muscles giving out. Lucas stomped right in front of him and socked him in the nose with the hand that just left my cunt. I heard the crackle of breaking bones and wondered if Lucas had jammed the broken bone back into his brain. The guy gurgled, tossing that idea out.

"Ya see here Jason, can I call ya Jason?"

So that's his name.

"Tha thing is, that little lady is mah wife and I don't appreciate some meathead asshole rubbing up on her, wanted or no. Angel, come 'ere."

I have to crawl on my hands and knees, legs still weak and flush in embarrassment. Lucas coos at me and helps me sit up on my torn knees.

"As you can see, her punishments already done and I can guaran-fucking-tee yours ain't gonna be half as fun."

He snorts.

"For you."

Lucas rubbed against the still stinging brand, and the guy's eyes bulged.

"Stay here, honey. I'm gonna get the tools ready for this game."

He kisses my forehead and lets me rub my cheek against his before walking out.

"Hey. Yea, hey."

Jason was nasally and grimacing past the blood from the broken nose but still legible.

"I'm sorry. About everything. But if you get me out of this, I can get us both away from that crazy dude."

It was my turn to snort.

"Even if I wanted to leave him and we make it out, what makes you think he wouldn't track us and every person you know and love down just to get me back?"

It's a little bit of a bluff, but I like imagining it has more truth than I'd think. Jason pales and looks away as I rub the brand on my stomach. I'm somewhat surprised he didn't do this earlier, he is one crazy possessive mother fucker sometimes. Overtaken with my anger at him, I wouldn't even be in this situation if he just stayed away like a normal human being. I snap at him.

"You're going to die down here, and if I weren't confident you were trying to rape me, I'd feel sorry. Hell, I'd try to get you out."

I find strength and stand on shaking legs, hand gripping his hair tightly.

"But seeing as I don't particularly want to, I'm gonna enjoy you dying."

I yank so hard a chunk of hair tears from his scalp. He begins to sob and I desperately block it out. If I pity him, it'll make this worse for me. I'm already carrying the weight of the uncountable lives I've taken in fits or couldn't save. I refuse to feel so for my would-be rapist.

Staggering to one of the walls in the cramped cell, I slide to the floor, legs splayed to give my throbbing pussy some air.

Lucas swaggered back in with a wicked smile and empty handed. He must have seen me confused because when he tugged me back up, he began explaining.

"Too big to put in 'ere. Ah'll have to move 'im."

I nod and let him lead me, hoping he will take me back upstairs, stomach dropping when he dragged me right in front of Jason. He kept me up straight, exposing my body completely.

"L-Lucas?"

My mouth went dry when I heard the heavy drop of his clothes behind me, the clang of his belt buckle echoing in my brain. A wide palm rubbed my new brand with a hum of appreciation, pinching my hips.

"Wait!"

He didn't. I felt his naked chest against my bare back when he grabbed my hips bruisingly and slapped me backward. Embarrassment burned a hot trail up my body, turning brown to dark red. He nipped my shoulder and whispered in my hot ear. I could feel a deadly smile on my skin.

"Com'on, Peachy. Lemme take care of ya baby."

My heart thumped, and my body tingled. I didn't even know if I wanted to say no, so I made a tiny nod and squeaked when Lucas leaned down and lifted me by the legs, spreading them and showing off my still wet labia to this stranger. I could only hear my heartbeat and Lucas's dark laughter. Not being able to cover my face with my arms around the back of his neck, I nudge his head up and hide away in the crook of his neck. I felt dirty and wrong but everything throbbed in anticipation.

He entered slowly, having to slip in without a hands help, groaning with me. Jason is weirdly silent throughout it, but I don't have it in me to look, body still flushed with shame and embarrassment. He thrusts while lifting me up and down and I choke over the sound of slapping skin. He laughed and thrust faster, pushing insistently against my G-spot. Our joining was sloppy and wet sounding. I almost start to cry at the creeping feeling of a complete stranger watching us fuck. I felt a familiar tightening in my clit and gasp in panic, shaking hands slapping the back of his neck.

"Lu-Lucas-s!"

My voice jumped and choked at the bouncing off him almost entirely lifting me off him and shoving up with a wet slap.

"What!"

He voice was tight and loud, holding me completely still and deciding to thrust up, arms twitching at the strain.

"Gotta step back."

I could almost tell when he knew what was happening, his lightbulb dinging in my ears too. He slurred curses into the open air and began shoving harder against my spot and delving deeper to tap my cervix. I came with a sob, trying to bury myself in his neck and hide when the man gasped, shocked to see the gush of fluid coming out.

The first time I did that was 17, and I cried, thinking I peed on my then boyfriend. A few not really informative web searches later I found out women could actually "squirt." The fetish looked kind of nasty, so I only did it in private when I could help it, and it wouldn't often happen anyways. Not until Lucas figured out I could and made it his mission to make me squirt as often as possible.

I fucking love the hot and tensing sensation, unexplainable in mind numbing pleasure that could make my entire stomach hurt from the clenching. I'm usually all about it when he could manage but when it made a small puddle at the man's feet I get a sinking feeling. My eyes rolled up into my head but I could feel Lucas take a couple steps forward and I try to clench harder to keep from gushing on this man's face. Fuck, that hurt in the best of ways, jaw clenching and teeth grinding to keep from screaming.

Lucas laughs lowly in my ear and pauses, ignoring my whine and folds my legs together, holding me with his arm like a bar under my knees. With his now free hand, he starts rubbing quick and hard over my clit. I roll my head from his neck and squeeze my eyes shut to try and ignore our horrified audience. I feel my cum squirt and sob open mouthed. I feel violated. The burn of the quiet man's eyes making my pussy feel like it was on fire and Lucas forcing fluid out of me again and again in a continuous orgasm against my will, sometimes pulling out, so he doesn't cum before his fun's over.

"Fuck!"

He jammed up as high as he could, knees buckling under him. Tears run down my face and I was too weaker keep from slumping against his body. We twitched together as I was flooded and the very last of my energy was concentrated into dragging out the tortuous orgasm as long as possible before I blacked out. I woke up on top of a pile of clothes, a rag between my crossed legs and face itchy with dried tears.

"Oh, God."

My voice is scratchy, and my head is pounding sharply. I close my swaying eyes to the stark room and try to channel some strength into standing. I literally had none, my fingers and toes barely twitching. I felt so wrong on the inside. One of the best orgasms of my life shouldn't have been in front of a stranger in an almost unwilling setting. I wanted it so bad. I didn't even want to say "no, " but now I wonder if I should have. Would he have stopped?

Lucas walked in shirtless, soaked in huge sprays of blood and smirking. An unlit joint hung lazily from his lip - I don't even want to know who's that is - and unbuttoned pants barely hanging from his bony hips, showing the lack of underwear underneath. His eyes are glossy and filled with wildness, and his short hair is sticking up at all angles, probably from running his fingers through it frantically. He honestly looks insane. As he steps closer, I can see his pinprick pupils swimming in such unnervingly glowing blues. He stumbles towards me and falls to his knees beside my body, unblinking eyes never looking away.

"Heeeeey, Peachy."

Oh, he is totally high, where did he get weed? He leans over me, hands slammed on either side of my head. I shoved down my bottled fears until I felt a sticky drop of blood on my stomach. Then the dam broke and so did I. I took my fear fueled strength to try and push him off but it wasn't enough. Why is it never enough?! I beat his chest and try to push while I cried out tearless sobs.

"F-fuck yo-u!"

Everything kind of ached in a bone-deep way. My breath was stuttering, and my heart was skipping. Lucas loomed over me, palms soothing over my tired limbs and pressing desperate kisses to my tear tracks. It's as close to an apology as I'm going to get.

"Fuck, I love you."

My heart nearly burst when he finally says this, murmured against the skin of my cheek. I think he actually does. I began to cry harder, to his chagrin.

"Hey. Heeeeey, Peach. Fuck, shit, sweetheart if it hurt that bad you shoulda told me."

I start to laugh as hot river's course down my raw cheeks. Lucas would have stopped. My shoulders slump as the invisible stress dissipated. He loves me. He loves me back. I fold my trembling limbs around him as he hefted me upright to sit in his lap and he shushed in my ear to quiet my sobs; sweet nothings that sound like impossible promises. Begs for me to stay and never leave him again.

The tacky chill of drying blood rubs across my stomach and thighs and I couldn't be bothered to care. I could have fallen asleep there. I think I did because when I came to he was standing and carrying me kola-style back to our room. My entire world is centered there, it makes sense to go back. When we get back he offered the joint but I shook my head. It would probably be a bad trip with all these overpowering emotions of shame and something like fear. I just half-ass wipe away the multitudes of fluids and fell asleep next to him, arm and leg tossed over his body as he smoked lazily, his other arm cushioning my head.

Frantic, sloppy kisses pepper my face into wakefulness. I shove his face back with a grunt and roll over to bury under the covers. He rips them away with a loud laugh and I feel a flash of familiarity. Dad would do this to mom when she slept in on the weekends and sometimes employed my brother Weston and me to help him in his holy mission of getting his wife up before noon. They wouldn't understand how my heart warms at the parallels.

He didn't let me out of immediate arms reach for the next while and was almost constantly wrapping his arm around my shoulders or, well, cuddling. Like a freaking cat. If that cat happened to be a half-starved jaguar that could chew your face off if you stopped petting it. But I'm not complaining. I'm clean and warm and comfortable constantly for at least three days of uninterrupted laziness.

It was only days after disposing of the man's body that I got a taste of what Lucas was feeling in the worst of ways. Jack picked up a group of hiking tourists while we were out and one of them escaped it seems. A girl who I found in my fucking home in front of Lucas and acting like a hoe. I was at her back in full view of Lucas who met my eye and kept it, essentially ignoring the woman in front of him.

"Come on. I'm not like all the other girls. I'm stronger, I can take whatever you dish out."

Jesus H. Christ, it's like a line from a badly filmed porno. I can see her hand rub over his crotch, and my back becomes ramrod straight when he doesn't push her off. He looks shocked, yea, but he ain't doing nothing about it. Even had the gall to look away from me and look into the simpering bitches eyes.

I can't tell if she's acting to stay alive or is actually soaked, and at this point, I don't care. Lucas may be a pain in the ass, I may even loathe him in the back of my mind, but he's mine and any slut that wants to get his dick is getting gutted. Of course, I don't over analyze the extreme violence of my thought, I just stomp up behind them and Lucas looks up in relief. Like he's never been propositioned before, that ass. But it doesn't stop me when the woman falls to her knees and goes to unbutton his fly.

"I don't even mind that you killed those people. I barely knew those sluts, and it gets me hot."

Sounds like a little girl trying to be edgy by putting down other girls she watched get slaughtered. She licks the seam of his jeans directly over his cock, and I snap. I snatch her head faster than you could blink and toss her to the side in disgust. Her hair is ratted for volume and damaged with cheap home color and bleach. She looks like a scene kid that didn't outgrow that embarrassing phase, shitty haircut and all.

Panda makeup is smudged and running from the girl's tears, and half chewed off red lipstick coats the thin seam of her lips. She looks like a wreck but also looks angry at being pulled from prime psycho dick. I bet she's one of those nasty school shooter fan girls. I look her up and down and smirk. She's not unattractive, certainly, but if it's me that gets Lucas hot, I don't have to worry much. She's fucking tiny. Short as hell and skinnier than Lucas. I can take her easy.

"What the fuck bitch?!"

I start a grumbling hiss, and she doesn't take it as the warning it is but Lucas sucks in air between his teeth and leans against his shop table with a giggle. Yea you enjoy this cause I'm coming for your ass next husband dearest. Voices changed quietly in my ear, not in warning, but in anger and bloodlust. It seems like even the spirits are in my favor.

"I should be saying that to you whore. The fuck you doing at my husband's feet?"

I get a flash of a similar sentence I heard during a catfight in school and felt filthy sinking so low as to do this. I know the answer, but I want to see what she does. She smirks and raises her eyes to the shrouded man behind me licking her nonexistent lips. Definitely a shooter fan girl. I'm making him wash his dick and burn those jeans before I fuck him, I don't want any of that near my pussy. Ignoring my own insanity of screwing possibly one of the biggest serial killers the US has ever seen. At least from the ones that have never been caught. I don't like thinking about it.

"He looked tense. Besides, he asked me to."

Oh, fuck this. The fight didn't last long, and I had to physically restrain myself from snapping her neck after I picked her up and tossed her against the wall. Didn't even get a good lick in before getting knocked out. For shame. Wonder how she survived so long. I toed her sleep-heavy body over with my bare foot and scoff.

"Put her somewhere and get the hell upstairs. I don't care where, but if she somehow interrupts us yer not getting laid for the next century."

He scrambles to grab the girl's leg and drag her away. Good. He didn't carry her. I take some petty enjoyment from the filth that must have coated her back. I march upstairs and immediately go to the shower. He'll join me when he gets back. And he does, glowing eyes almost apprehensive. Usually, he'd be in complete control of the situation. I fully expected him to take the reigns and fold me over. It seems he's giving me his leash for a short while and I smirk in a way that feels twisted on my face.

"Clean your dick first. I'm not touching what she touched."

As he soaps up his junk, I run a fingernail down his spine to his butt. It's skinny but well formed, and I love pinching it at unexpected times. I coo into his shoulder and run my other palm from cupping his prominent lower ribs over his muscled stomach, and finally I run the hand into the soapy apex of his legs. His knees buckle, and he leans his head back while slamming a shaking hand on the shower tiles. I work him just enough to get him hard and then kick the back of his knee lightly.

"On your knees. We're not leaving this shower until I cum at least once."

He turns and drops like a rock letting me get the full face of the water. I laugh and lower the nozzle while putting a leg over his shoulder. He dove in immediately, sloppy cunt devoured until I couldn't stand and I had to be supported on the wall, legs crossed around his head.

"Enough!"

I had just come off my second high when I shoved his head back. If he makes me pop again, it will turn into another game of "How Many Times Can Peach Cum Before Her Heart Stops" and I'm not in the mood tonight. I force him to stand up and walk into the room all the while I couldn't take my eyes off his raging red erection.

"Sit."

He obeys and sits in a rickety chair I put in the middle of the room for this purpose.

"Good. Stay still."

I take some frayed rope from the bed and smirk when his eyes widen and his cock bobs. I've watched him torture enough to know how to tie someone up without them getting loose. I tie his wrists to the arm rests and his ankles to the back legs. Taking the last length, I knot it around his waist so he can't squirm and I leave him there, dripping and tied while I light up a cigarette from our little rickety nightstand to hopefully get rid of the slight pain behind my eyes. I ignore his yelling and frustration as I calmly smoke through it.

"Fucking hell, Peach, suck my dick or let me go."

He could have probably torn through the ties if he wanted to, the chair wasn't that strong. He's just being an ass. Or bottoming like a pro. Blowing out of my nose like a dragon, I stomp up to him and smack him with just enough force to make a sound. Still, he scowls, and I can see a vein throb in his temple.

"So disrespectful."

I gracefully lower to my knees and in the last second remember the girl that did just this an half hour ago. Fury engulfed me and my senses, and I glare at him and keep his eyes as I punish him. I dig my lit cigarette into the back of his hand, and when he howled I was struck with an idea.

"Stay still, baby."

Giggling I take the still hot ember and push it next to the last burn. I ignore his slurring and cursing as I smoke up the pack of clove-flavored nicotine and tar and snuff out the butts into his skin. An hour and a half pack later I get the desired heart shape deeply burned into his hand with lazy half blowjobs in between that put him on the edge and no further. It'll be lighter than mine, but I did it. I marked him as mine just as he did to me. I kiss one of the fresh brands and take a knee. He was so into it, so good for me, by the end, he deserves a little reward. The head is beading with pre-cum, and I lick it up before fisting his length and swallowing the head all at once. He hisses through his teeth and doesn't last long as I swirled my tongue under his glands and furiously pumped his cock for a good couple minutes, lubricated by my drool.

"Ohh fuck, Peach!"

He jams up as much as he can through the restraints, and I swallow the bitter load he gives me. It's almost too much at once, and a couple drops slip from the corner of my mouth. I sit up and wipe my lips with the back of my hand, looking up at the boneless heap of a man panting and sweating under me. I did this, holy crap. I scramble onto his lap and push his head into my boobs, rubbing away the residue tears and sweat. Humming, I rock us, hands smoothing down his back.

"Holy shit, Peach."

I hum in agreement and kiss his forehead. It just feels right.

"Now you're mine too."

He nods silently and just rocks with me. After a while I begin rubbing against his still exposed dick, leaning down to kiss him deeply.

"You ready for another round honey?"

His nod is frantic, and so is the throb of his steel bar of a prick against my stomach. Laughing I position myself and sink all the way down until he bottoms out, both of us sighing in appreciation. I don't want to change our dynamic. Not really. But I have a feeling he's going to let me have control and stay in bed more often now. If I have my way, this is going to be a long night.

I didn't even have to play it up for dinner the next night, still pissed and plenty possessive even after we fucked each other raw. I almost smirked when I sat down on his lap, and he was too worn out to raise past half mast. Eveline's influence may be waning every day, but I fed her violence into my own strong feelings about the woman sitting across from me. Lucas was, of course, ignoring her despite her attempts to catch his eye. Jesus, I never thought I'd ever have to cat fight for Lucas, but here we are.

A couple crazies fighting out of grudge and lust for this even bigger crazy currently trying to cover the back of my neck with as many hickies as possible without his mother noticing. I'll win every time but I take a certain amount of satisfaction in claiming him as mine, and I can't tell if that's the mold talking or me. Either way, we both have our brands. I giggle when he presses into my mark, and I gently poke my thumb into the cigarette burns on his hand. I trace the heart shape and bring one up to kiss.

"So, where do you stay Lucas?"

Oh wow. I'm either trapped in a shitty porno or a badly written fanfiction because I have never met a woman so desperate in mah life.

"With me."

Lucas stays silent as his mother begins to catch on to what is happening. Her wide smile crumbled into an expression of fury.

"You little slut! You stay the hell away from mah baby, he's a goddamn married man!"

She stabs the table, and we decide to bounce before sharp objects start flying. I couldn't hold in my laughter as we raced back home, my fingers laced through his. I felt flushed and happy, and it's so wrong, but I give less than one fuck when he pulls me up and lays a big one right in front of Zoe's trailer. From the twitch in the shitty curtains, she might be watching, so I deepen it before nipping his lip and running ahead, breathless. I fell on the bed, where he caught up to me and tackled me down. Our laughter faded into contentment and I smiled when he got back up, kissing the spot between my boobs and going to do his own thing before we gave in and fucked again until we passed out. Remembering my little pet project, I roll over and crawl to my magazine pile.

"Lucas?"

He grunts where he's sitting at the foot of the bed, flipping a chewed up pen as he tries to figure out the math of a new machine. If I didn't know their unholy intentions, I would find his furrowed brow and slightly peeking tongue adorable. I watch in slow motion when it sweeps over his bottom lip before he sucks it into his mouth to chew. My heart thumped, and my breath got a little heavier. We just had a literal sex marathon over the last two days, how on earth am I even semi aroused? I clear my throat and pull the finished necklace from under my pile of magazines. The head was the centerpiece and is bracketed by equally spaced ribs and beads that I was able to successfully drill a hole into. It's certainly pretty, but it's no wedding ring.

"Here. I made this for ya."

His head snapped up, and eyes widen when he sees the dangling necklace. I smile sheepishly and wonder if this was a mistake. A bone necklace, what the hell kind of gift is that?! I put my impending anxiety attack down when he ran a finger over the smooth bone of the snake head.

"It's not a wedding ring, but hey, at least it's kinda pretty."

His finely shaped brow raises, and he takes it with gentle hands. It's strange to see such delicate bones in such large and scarred hands. With a whoosh, the voices leave me, but I know they will return. Danger follows me like a stray. I place it over his head and smile. He looks like the swamp king, all shirtless and smirking. All he needs is a crown of alligator teeth. I kiss above his heart and fall backward into the bed, dragging him down with me.


	16. Damsel In Distress

Damsel In Distress

The plan is simple: Wait for Lucas to leave. Pee on the stick. Check the stick. Throw the stick into the swamp so it will never be found. Continue based on the results. After the second step, though, time froze. I was curled up on the bathroom floor, waiting for the 3 minutes to be up with thoughts going a mile a minute and at the same time slow as molasses. It's not that I don't like kids. I love babies. But I don't want any for myself, not now at least and probably not ever.

If I am...we might need to preform a back ally abortion. Cringing at the thought I slam my head against the wall, feet tapping the tiles. It's not like I can take care of a kid here, I might even loose it from all the stress. I'm too young to be a mother, damnit! The broken kitchen timer dinged but I couldn't find the strength to stand up. The two tests on the counter mock me with their cheery pink, the burnt chicken on top of the timer dial looks at me accusingly. Fuck that chicken.

It made another shredded ding, the ruined bird still staring and still being a judgmental bitch. Glaring at it, I stay on the floor. If I don't look it can't be positive or negative. Swallowing around my nerves, throat swollen, I wiggle to the counter and slap down on the sticks, half wishing they'd shatter under my hand. I almost couldn't focus on the results on the little screens.

"Negative."

My relief is so overwhelming, so exaggerated, that it left me numb. Dropping them in the sink I slump against the cabinet and lazily blink away tears. Later, when I disposed of the tests in the swamp-overkill, I know-I didn't even have to turn to feel the oppressive presence of Eveline. She looks at me until I turn, her eyes burning into my back. I don't look away. I don't blink. I don't even frown. And neither does she until the phantom vanishes, the quiet murmurs in my ears leaving with her. Nothing explains why I'm not bleeding or why on earth I'm not pregnant with how much unprotected sex we've been having. Maybe it's the mold, and maybe it's permanent. Hopefully not.

Life was just damn fine. Completely ok. Never better. I absolutely was not angry at Lucas for being a secretive prick.

"Ah said I'll be back later, fucking hell woman!"

"You just got back! What the fuck is going on that's so important you can't tell me?"

He yapped his hand and pocketed his keys, shooting me a glare over his shoulder. I notice the necklace over his hoody and relax a little, hand going into my pocket to rub at one of the many ribs that broke. The polished bone snapped in half, leaving a sharp edge to press my thumb into. Not enough to bleed but enough to channel my anger and not feel the overwhelming need to strangle him.

"Fine. Fuck off, but yer sleeping in the goddamn yard with the molded!"

He flinched a little and the look he leveled dared me to do just that. My pursed lips and raised brows were his answer and he hesitated before leaving through the open door. For once he didn't slam it, probably not wanting to replace another door after the last couple split. Grumbling, I pick up a screwdriver off the bed and threw it half assed at the silent wooden door. Wonderful. Not knowing what to do next, I picked up the tool, tossed it on his desk, and marched my happy butt out. Maybe I can find something that needs fixing?

Oooor I could snoop around in his murder office? Bad idea. Only idea though. Fiddling with my ring, I ignore the breezing whispers and the clench in my gut. As always, he leaves it unlocked and the screens on. Completely ignoring the staticky screams from the speakers and the single captive man I had failed to get out in time on the monochrome colored tv. I try not to look too close, his hipster beard soaked in the gore and drool caused by his missing lips and his ankles mangled beyond repair.

Bile burns the back of my esophagus and I once again wonder why I'm here. And once again I shake off the thought of leaving and start searching his main computer for emails. Nothing but the usual ones from whatever shadowy organization he works for and absolutely nothing about what was going on today. Groaning I shut it down and look through his drawers in a desperate draw. Loose papers, schematics, lists, and, of course, scribbling of code. One note pad had a few torn papers, ripped from the metal wire enough to bend it a bit.

I almost just left it on the desk until I saw the imprint of Lucas's blocky writing pressed into the under paper. Tilting it against the light of the lamp my grin feels sly, although it probably looks too toothy and crooked. Picking up one of the many pencils scattered around with varying degrees of sharp and length I do what I've seen in hundreds of cop shows but never actually did myself. Easy enough except he seems to have pressed so hard on layers of paper that the whole page was almost illiterate.

Words melded and letters skipped and filled the gaps between sentences. Numbers and times were thrown in there too. Carefully tearing it out I fold it up and shove it into my pocket, straightening the room and ignoring the man who long passed out. I close the door without a second thought to him and, for maybe a passing second, I wonder what exactly I lost when Eveline took control of me.

I always had low empathy, unable to really connect to others emotions unless they were my own close family and I was there though it all with them, but never had I felt this almost sociopathic numbness to another. What the hell is wrong with me? What the fuck did she take from me, some kind of fundamental part of humanity stripped away and hidden in the black gooey pool in the center of my brain?

I decided the depths of my humanity is a mite too heavy of a thought process today and wandered outside to watch the molded shamble around and knock into the fence. Of course Lucas and I set up lawn chairs and a bucket of pebbles to try and hit them from over the barbed fence. And of course I slumped down on the sagging, dirty toothpaste colored plastic chair and did just that, jamming a pair of sunglasses over my nose that I forgot out here last time.

"Can ya stahp tha' fer a second?!"

Zoe. Grimacing I toss over one last rock, silently hoping I hit her, and lean back into the creaking plastic to sunbathe as she fiddled with the gate before giving up with a curse and shooed away the moldy zombies from the fence.

"Where's Lucas?"

"Fuck if I know. Don't you have a head to look for?"

She tossed an abandoned pebble through the bars but it landed in the brittle grass a few feet away.

"Bastard is probably cleaning up after your lazy asses again. If ya see him, tell him to pick up more lube why don't cha? Kay, thanks."

I think I heard her mutter 'bitch' under her breath and a smile tugged the corner of my mouth, dimples crinkling my cheeks. It's fun to rile her up with light hearted bitching sometimes, before things get heavy with mistrust and loathing. Our shaky and unstable relationship just worsened when she reluctantly extended the olive branch and I rejected it. I know their plan. They only needed the cure enough for two and my added protection. My ass would have been left behind to take the rage of her parents.

"Well, the nut job forgot some package in the kitchen. Tell him he owes me for saving it from pa."

Ah yes, another reason I fucking hate her. She treats her brother like some alien entity to be dissected. I don't doubt they were close once, I saw the old photos when Marguerite would get excited and shove a family album under my nose, swearing to leave a chapter free for my own children. But something irreparable happened between those two and loathing festered like an open wound, growing more hot and swollen with every passing day, explosive anger leaking out like pus. I won't waste energy trying to patch things up between them, I just stay by his side as his crutch he denies needing and occasionally helping the two women advance in their plan of escape out of reluctant guilt.

Zoe shoved a fat package between the wrought iron fence, uncaring as it fell into the dirt, and left without a backwards glance. I threw a pebble over the wire and laughed when it hit the back of her leg, swinging another violently at the head of a monster creeping up behind her. She rubbed her leg and flew the bird before jogging off as I rapid fire hit the monster until it was forced to retreat with a gurgling scream. Heaving myself up with a soul heavy sigh, I pick up the smallish package that was surprisingly light.

I get a bad feeling from this thing. Whatever is going on might be hidden inside, under the annoying orangish paper. It's not the first time he's gotten one like this, never with an address or name on them and always disappearing within minutes in his man lair of torture. He never told me to not touch them but it was kind of an unspoken rule. So, in complete respect for that rule, I tore open the package immediately after locking myself inside.

Lotta good that did me. It was just piles of paper coded beyond comprehension and what looked like longitude and latitude. A UBS fell out from the bottom but I'd rather not incite his anger anymore than I need to. I was able to match up a couple numbers from my note and the papers, words copying in an order now that I see a common code but I still don't understand. Now I have an open package, no answers, and a probably pissed off Lucas. Wonderful.

I didn't try to rewrap the papers, shuffling them back together and leaving them on the end of the bed. Pure frustration tightened in my chest like a twisted rubber band but instead of screaming like I want to I huff and put my face in my hand, breathing through it and trying not to cry. Taking a few minutes to myself I reach into my pocket for my broken rib, screaming at the sharp pain blooming across my left pointer finger.

I take my bleeding hand out of my pocket and stare at it blankly. Drops flowed down my wrist and fell to the floor, sliding between my toes to soak into the splintered wood flooring. My gut twisted violently and I decided not to sleep until Lucas was home.

It's been a week. A week. Lucas has never been gone this long. I gave in within the third day and passed out only to wake up alone. I hate that feeling. The slice on my finger never healed, weeping constantly in the days that crept slowly by. All my bandages are soaked through and I'm not getting answers from the pesky spirits that now scream in my ear.

I'm done waiting now, the days making me more anxious with every passing moment. That idiot is absolutely not meant for outside life. Not yet. Who knows what kind of trouble he could have gotten into?! Maybe he was taken in by police, not cleaning his tracks effectively the more months that go by. Either way, I want to brain myself on the wall because of the constant ringing in my ear accompanied by the yelling. Maybe I'm just crazy and it's all in my head, but let me tell you this headache is real.

Now all I need to do is find a ride but Lucas took the truck. The only semi moving vehicle on the property is Jacks baby, a white Jeep I don't think has been touched the entire time they were infected. Slinging a shotgun over my shoulder and patting the machete attached to my backpack I creep into the house, scuttling to the garage and stopping like a mannequin at the slightest creak of the old house around me. Cringing deeply at the loud noise of the garage door opening I stop it as soon as I could and rolled under, praying desperately I won't loose a limb to Jacks chain saw again. Regrowing is a fucking pain in the ass.

Looking around the garage and straining my ears for the telling sound of his stomps or Marguerites harping I'm met with silence. No one is around. Smiling I start the van, well cared for engine purring to life, and I lean into the steering wheel. It's less difficult than I thought it would be, getting out only to unlock the padlock to the gate and creeping quietly passed. Miles beyond the property line I stall the car and take out my lucky bone fragment.

"Show me where."

Please don't let me be crazy. It twitched on the dash, the bloodstained tip flipping ahead.

"Oh, thank god."

I restarted the car and lowered the light, only looking away from the road to watch the occasional movement of the bone. Hours passed along with towns and cities. I don't think I'm even in Florida anymore, bleary eyes unable to see anything but the road ahead of me and the angry hallucinations Evie sent, the trace amounts of mold in my spine enough to give her a foot hold. Several times I have to consciously curb the need to crash into a tree. Punk pumped through the speakers, deafening, to smother the screams.

"Will you shut the fuck up!"

I punched the dash and was given blessed silence for a few moments until it started again. Fuckers. Turning up the bass I speed into a city, unnamed and unknown to me, as the sun rested in the middle of the sky. I only stop long enough to refill and grab Twinkie's before following my nonsensical, mystical guid. Not outside of the city but to the industrial sector, residential and economic left in the rising afternoon dust.

If I didn't know for certain Lucas was in there I would have turned tail, the abandoned looking warehouse district rusted and twisted in the evening sun. Picking up the bone and balancing it on my palm I abandoned the jeep and crept further inside, leaping the gate and ignoring the red warning signs posted on the chain link.

It led me further and further into the maze until it began to go completely insane, spinning as my eyes widened in dread. Three men stood in front of a dark blue warehouse, sitting on crates and fiddling with not-so-concealed weapons. Oh fuck this. I flip a bitch and turn around, Z lining to the car and spending a couple minutes weakening and tearing off the thick padlock on the gate.

I tried to be quiet as I slowly drove my extra muscle through the warehouses, but from the three lazy guard standing at attention I know I wasn't that good at it. Reving the engine I peel down on the assholes between me and my husband, bullets piercing and passing through me. My arm, my chest, my stomach. I felt the familiar pain of my lung collapsing after hitting the third over muscled goon and the walls of the warehouse I crashed into gave in.

The van is trashed, the front collapsed on impact and my lung flopped in sympathy. Wheezing and spitting through the bubbling blood, I grab my shot gun and machete and steel myself to the oncoming pain. Kicking my door open after a few hits to the warped metal I pump and load up, ignoring the loud yells from inside. Building myself up with the all the skill of a mediocre hype man who's balls haven't dropped I bang open the single door leading into the building.

Lucas was splayed on the ground, his left arm completely severed and held in the hand of the man grinding his foot into his obviously shattered knee. I can see the gnarled scars in the shape of a heart crushed in the strangers grip. The bone saw glistens under the energy efficient lights, the buzzing from the bulbs filling my brain with white noise. While everyone turned to me, weapons out and snarls demonic, I couldn't look away from his twisted neck and marble like eyes. The man looming over him is the first to die, long barreled shotgun pumping buckshot into his chest and creating a hold gushing with blood over his heart.

I'm met with more bullets, four more added to my six before I can duck behind a stack of crates, severing a woman's hamstring on my way down. Hissing through my teeth I kick the woman away from clawing my leg before stabbing the sharp blade into the neck, the firm muscle and hard bone giving out when I make it between to the cartilage and severed her spine with a soft, meaty pop. Five down, five left.

Gritting my teeth and forcing myself to remember all the worse pain I had to withstand in the arena, I reload and force my body to heave over the top or the cargo crate. It was methodological, the dodging and reloading. Every shot was met with two others and I barely got away without getting lead in my cranium.

"Shit!"

I crawled to the fallen body of the woman as rolled her over, the sound of gunshots echoing loudly as I fumbled for her pistol. After I checked the chamber it was easy to pick them off, panther crawling around and taking out some of the lights as a distraction.

Pop, pop. Down they'd go. Limp and lifeless and yet I can't dredge up any pity for them. I finished our stand off by shooting the man shouting orders in the stomach, his two surviving subordinates running and leaving us alone. Finally. Reloading the stolen gun I dig into my bullet holes to try and wedge out the slugs and help along the healing. Pulling out three with varying degrees of screaming I leave the others to get pushed out and walk to the dying man.

"Got on your knees."

"No."

He has a thick accent, European I think, dark haired the blue eyed. Small for a man in charge, but well dressed and with shiny cuff links. How Bond.

"Kneel!"

I kick into the gaping hole in his stomach when he spit at me. I wait patiently as he squirmed and decided it might be a better idea to follow the orders of the chick with a shiny metal death sentence. He wouldn't look into my eyes until I cocked the gun and put it to his head.

"That man. Why is he here?"

I jerk my head in the general direction of Lucas and I can already hear the faint crackle of bones melding wrong. If his neck is out of place I might need to re break it if he hasn't already. If. His pain tolerance is astronomical.

"He was a fool. Demanded more than what we owed and payed the price."

Yea, that sounds like Lucas all right.

"You're useless."

My finger moved to the trigger and I watched a grown man become a simpering child in a nanosecond.

"Money! I'll give you all the money you need, scotch free. Just don't pull the trigger."

Lucas groaned behind me, familiar, like the way he does every morning. The tightness in my healing lungs released and I yelled over my shoulder.

"You ok baby?"

The mans face slackened in horror and I looked behind me to see Lucas sitting up and cracking his previously broken neck, glaring at the tiny stump in place of his arm.

"Couldn't be bettah sugar tits."

I put a bullet in the mans eye socket, the gush of blood and brain matter soaking my already filthy jeans. There goes another pair. Flicking off a glob of leaking eye jelly from my knee with a sneer I pocket the gun and limp to Lucas who looked more defiant than worried in face of my growing fury. Crouching in front of him, I helped recut and adjust his sliced earlobe only taking a little pleasure in the pain I caused.

"Why were you here Lucas."

I'm quite, not meeting his eye and concentrating on patching him up a bit.

"They owed meh money."

Pursing my lips I pinch the broken fingers I had to slightly reset, causing a bit more pain that necessary as I grind his knuckles.

"Why?!"

"Reasons, babe."

I reach out and dig my thumb into the bloody stump and he bucks and laughs in my face, my southern damsel in distress acting like he might have liked being in distress a little more than he should have.

"Gawd, for such a smart guy, you are so fucking stupid sometimes."

I fisted his shirt in my hand and yanked him closer, mouth clashing with his pouring all my frustration and anger into it. With his missing arm and wrecked leg he could only sit there and let me. The pungent scent of death, shit, and copious amounts of blood tickled my nostrils so I angled my face straighter with his and breathed in the smell of unwashed, bloody Lucas. Like sweat, blood, and man stench. Not the best, but after almost a week of being alone just pressing against the scarecrow is enough to get me going.

"You ok enough for a quickie?"

Immediately I felt guilty, looking down and seeing the still puffy black eye and the empty sleeve. Of fucking course he's not, but I shouldn't of been shocked when his remaining hand slipped into my back pocket and shoved me harder onto his lap, grinding up into me.

"Fuck, please."

He slurred and I could see the bloody swell of his tongue behind the cage of his teeth, a couple gaps from regrowing incisors. He ain't exactly purdy but all I need is a cock and his voice. Grinning I lightly kiss under the black bruise on his eye and shove him down onto his back.

"Lemme take care of you baby. You've been through the wringer."

"Shiiiit sugar tits, ride meh like a cow girl." Barking out a laugh I rock into him and slap his uninjured shoulder.

"Shudup and I might just do that."

He moaned and tilted his head back. Such a masochist. Giggling drunkenly, still high off the adrenaline rush, I peel of my jeans, thighs pink with the soaked through blood, and unbutton the torn shreds of his cargo pants. When he opened his mouth, probably to say something, I slap my hand across it and growl.

"Be quiet Lucas. One word and we stop. I'm still plenty pissed at you and you're still plenty immortal. Now, nod if you understand."

He nodded frantically and I pressed harder for a second, his teeth digging deeply into his cheeks. Already, I could feel him hard and twitching up through his boxers.

"Good."

I let up and immediately start lowering the band of his dirty boxers. I don't know when he showered last, so just a quickie. My face twisted up like his when I used the blood on my hands as lube, slipping easily over his skin and fingering a little into me. Kinda like the time I had sex on my period. Messy, but satisfying. I just never thought I'd be using the blood of my enemies as a lube.

I sat down on it slowly and a tension between my shoulders I didn't know was there melted away. Biting my lip and closing my eyes I start to bounce, encouraging croons and huffs whispering through my grey matter. Turning me to compliant mush with the first accidentally uttered syllable, even when he's injured and bottoming. It's not fair so I smack him and they turn from music to my ears to grunting and growling, bucking up and pressing deeper for a split second. My downs added a flick at the end to grind into him and I felt my tits bounce in response.

Lip nearly splitting when I grin through my biting I reach up and put on a little show for him. I can never decide if he's a boob man or an ass man. I think he might just be a Peach man, worshiping and ruining me in the same breath. Goose bumps prickled up my sweaty flanks when I pinched my crinkled nipple, brown skin shining under the quite honestly unflattering lighting.

I moved like that for him, show girl like and with an extra flick of my hips to keep grinding, until he opened his goddamn mouth again and my hand flashed over his throat. I squeezed until it stopped working to get the words out and my movements were more jerky and harsh. Wheezing as the healed lung tissue was pinched when I leaned over I brushed my painfully sensitive nipples on the smooth fabric of his blood crushed t shirt. My hand didn't let up but from the insistent palm groping my ass up and down he didn't want me to.

He came like a geyser but I didn't let up, jerking my body along his and hitting my clit even when he stopped and my cunt overflowed a bit.

"Stay-FUCK-stay hard!"

I couldn't force him to even as I growl but I finish off with a bang and a scream when I tilted just right to hit the back of my vagina and my clit at the same time just as he went limp. Sighing as my body released all tension I fell full body over him, slowly unclenching my fingers and hunching up. A couple bullets slipped from my body and fell to the cement with a clang, adding a sweet ache to my bones.

Vivid red is smeared across his neck, my finger wound weeping blood and pooling in his sharp clavicle. It's nothing but a thin pink line now and the sting is nothing to the healing bullet holes. Laughing, I take my blood and rub it across his scruffy cheek and pursed lips, keeping his unamused eye when I leave fingerprints on his balding head and nose.

"I need a new pack of cigarettes for when ya get yer arm back. After you tell me exactly why I had to save your ass."

He bucked up into me and laughed like a demon.


End file.
